What's Real?
by AwesomeMcCoolname
Summary: Rae was only writing an innocent fanfiction when everything began spiraling out of control. First, she met the Thief Lord. Then, she fell in love. What's this about an abusive father, sappiness, and changing an alternate reality? T for abuse and language
1. Beginning

**A/N:** _I'm finally getting around to editing this. Apologies for previous lack of grammar/spelling/common sense. Apologies for current lack of expertise in those areas, but I am improving, I hope.  
_

**Disclaimer for All Chapters: I don't own **_**Thief Lord.**_

Rachel walked into her room, dumped her backpack beside her desk, and turned on her computer with her foot. Then, the kicked off her shoes, pulled her hair free of its ponytail, and flopped down in front of her desk to wait for her computer to load. Behind her, a Border Collie trotted in and headed straight for its master's bed.

Rachel finally opened a Word document, and paused for a moment to gather her thoughts. Letting out a charged breath, her fingers began typing like a whirlwind.

_The cool Venetian air that brushed against my face swirled pleasantly in my lungs, sending chills through my lithe body. I slunk down the alley, eyes searching around every bend—and frequently behind me—for any sign of men. There were none. My coat made no sound as I moved, and the collar brushed my cheek as I turned to glance behind yet again. My shoes made no sound as I stepped carefully around puddles and loose cobblestones._

The girl sitting at the computer smirked. _'So far, so good,'_ she thought to herself.

_I tipped my hat a little as I peeked around the corner of the alley I was about to leave, then straightened up so as not to seem suspicious. _

_The moon graced the world with its silvery presence, casting the damp city in an eerie glint. There was something awesome in the air, giving me a thrill—it was amazing, the feeling of nighttime in Venice. But then again, everywhere was like this at night. No one was pushing or shoving, and you could hear every sound for a mile._

_I passed a familiar shop and clucked softly. A pair of owl-like eyes peered up at me from the darkness under the eave; then my good friend Shasta trotted out. His grimy, black-and-white fur was mussed, but his tail wagged excitedly. I flinched as I was splattered with dirty water, and I shook my head. Shasta grinned at me; I patted his head, then we set off down the street once more._

_Roughly thirty minutes later, the moon was hanging straight above us: midnight. Feet aching, I sat down against a wall facing the canal. Shasta yawned loudly, inciting a wider one from me. My canine curled up by my feet, chin on paws, and stared fixedly at the dark, silver-lined water. I followed his gaze and in only a few moments, I was fast asleep._

"_I saw her! She was sleeping a few alleys down, in front of the canal!"_

_I woke with a start, hearing angered, urgent voices. Slowly, I pushed myself upright and listened intently, trying to make out who was speaking._

"_Show me, now!" another voice commanded._

"_Just another street over, I promise you!"_

"_It better be! Last time it was nothing but a few garbage cans and a rat!"_

_A curse passed my lips and I jumped up, nearly tripping over Shasta. His teeth were bared and hackles raised, a low growl rumbling from his small, bony frame. After a few slips and slides on the slick street, I began running. Shasta followed after a moment's hesitation._

_I could still hear the men shouting—their voices, already loud, had risen in anger as they found my empty patch of wall._

"_Hey! You! Stop!"_

_They'd seen me._

_I snatched my hat just in time to keep it from flying off as I tripped coming around a corner. I fell hard on my right knee, but had no time to waste. I was up and running in a heartbeat, trying to put as much distance as I could between those men and I. Even with my head start and no-time-for-pain attitude, the men were catching up quickly. They hadn't caught me already because of my superior knowledge of the alleyways…but how long I would have the energy to use that knowledge was uncertain._

_Finally, their voices faded into silence, and I let myself gulp down some stinging air._

"_One last alley and we'll rest," I panted, already slowing. I jumped over a garbage can and slid into an alley—_

_--just as a figure clothed in the darkest night ran in front of me. I had no time to move out of the way, and we crashed._

_The last thing I saw before my head smashed into the street was a mask with a nose like a bird of prey._

Rachel's eyes narrowed in concentration as she re-read her story. She nodded to herself, a goofy grin breaking out on her face. '_This is definitely the best yet.'_

Glancing at the clock, she yawned and kneaded her eyes with her palms. "Eleven thirty? Dang." How time flies when you're having fun, indeed. Forgetting to change into her pajamas, she stood and crossed to her bed, flopping down beside her dog. She was asleep in seconds.

Shasta placed his head on her stomach and growled softly. His gaze, filled with mistrust, was locked firmly on the computer. All was not right, and he knew it.

The computer hummed.

* * *

Rachel moaned softly, sitting up and yawning widely. "Wazzat?" She muttered to herself.

"_I saw her! She was sleeping a few alleys down, in front of the canal!"_

"Huh?" Rachel blinked and stood up, looking around her. Shasta was dirty and wet, growling and baring his teeth in the direction the voice had come from. "Shasta, what's—" Rae stopped herself, and then lifted a hand to her head. _A hat…?_ "Oh."

Dang.

"Show me, now!" a second voice commanded.

"Just another street over, I promise you!"

"It better be! Last time it was nothing but a few garbage cans and a rat!"

Rachel began running; it was hard, what with it being wet and her still being half asleep. Shasta followed after a few heartbeats, easily keeping up with her stumbling pace.

"Hey! You! Stop!"

Rae didn't bother with the hat, but couldn't avoid tripping over a pile of boxes as she turned a corner. She fell hard on _both_ knees and cried out in pain, struggling to stand on her suddenly wobbly legs. "Come on," she moaned to herself, and then limped off. Soon, though, her knees were numb with cold and she was running faster. Miraculously, she knew where she was going—for some strange reason, there was a map of alleys in her head. Not that she had actually ever even _seen_ Venice before…

Then again, she'd never gone into a story, either.

After an eternity, the voices of her pursuers faded away. She didn't let herself calm down, instead choosing to keep running. Her heart pounded in her chest, her lungs ached because of her asthma, and tears blurred her vision. She barely managed to jump over a garbage can before remembering what happened next. She had a split second to brace herself before she collided with the black-clothed boy. They landed in a heap of tangled limbs, and Rachel heard two identical cracks just as her head hit the street.

Darkness swept upon her, but imprinted in her mind was the ominous mask, with the strange beak like a bird of prey's.

_

* * *

_

A pair of eyes fluttered open, then closed again as a pounding headache leapt upon her. She blinked away tears of pain as she slowly pushed herself into a slouched sitting position. It took a few moments, but slowly the night's events came back to her.

"You're awake!" a voice exclaimed.

_Ow. Loud,_ she thought to herself through the sudden pounding in her head.

Shasta shot up, placing himself in front of Rachel and crouching, ready to attack the boy that had just made to move closer to her. The canine snarled viciously as the teenager stood.

"Shasta, it's alright," Rachel said quickly. The dog turned to look at her, then seemed to shrug, relax, and decide to sit down in a puddle.

Rachel turned her gaze back to the boy and immediately recognized him as Scipio Massimo, Thief Lord. His dark hair was tied back in a short ponytail, and his eyes were dark behind his mask. He smiled; pearly teeth gleamed at her from his shadowy face.

"Sorry about him," she said softly, not daring to raise her voice lest she cause her already pounding head to split in agony. "He's a bit overprotective."

"He has good reason to protect you, _Cara_," Scipio said, also lowering his voice, and crouched down to be on eye-level with her. "You're so beautiful, I'm surprised the paparazzi isn't chasing after you right now. Or maybe, that was why you were running?"

Her mind was slow from the sleep and her hangover-esque headache, and her bogged thoughts caught on that Italian word, _Cara. _It meant 'sweetheart' or 'my dear', right...? She blushed, recognizing the blatant flirting. "No, that's not why I was running," she replied shyly.

"So, _Cara__,"_ he continued, breezing past her train of thought. "What's your real name?"

She sighed. Real name, or pen name, should she tell him either? "Rachel. Or Rae. Melantha, if you really want. You?"

He was silent for a moment, taking his own sweet time—as if he were a king. Or a _lord._ "Melantha… That means dark flower, correct? It fits. You're pretty as a flower, and certainly dark." He gestured appreciatively at her clothes.

"Er… Thanks?_"_

"Your parents named you perfectly. By the way…where are they?"

"Can you stop flirting with me?"

"Who says I'm flirting with you, _Cara?"_ He smirked infuriatingly and rested his chin on his palm. "Now, answer my question: Where are your parents?"

"How's about you answer mine?"

"Which one?"

She scowled and glared up at him. "Can you stop pretending to be such a prig and stay on one line of questioning at a time!" she snapped. "And did you ever consider that I've told you my name but you haven't told me yours?" The fact that she actually knew it didn't matter to her at the moment.

His smile was possibly even more mocking than before, as he cocked his head to the side. His eyes were gentle, amused, teasing. "Ah yes, that one," he drawled. "Scipio, the Thief Lord, at your service. Now, if you're pleased, will you be so kind as to answer _my_ question, _Cara?"_

Rae sighed and looked up at the moon. For a split second, she considered telling him the truth, then decided against it. "I'm an orphan."

He was silent. His dark head, previously tilted in an leisurely way, was now alert, his eyes wary. "Well then," he said simply.

She waited. When he didn't continue, she rolled her eyes. "Well what?"

"Well, would you like a place to stay?"

Rae raised an eyebrow at him, as it was her turn to be amused. "And why should I trust you? What could you, a _thief_, be able to do for me?" she asked dryly.

"A lot, actually." He glanced at her, and their gazes locked, hers testing and his probing. "A roof over your head, food in your stomach, warmth... Possibly a life, if you care for it..." He shrugged. "It's an offer you can't refuse, girl. What do you say? Come with me?"

"Um… Sure, why not?"

The thin teen held out a pale, elegant hand, standing up. She took it and he pulled her up, catching her as she stumbled. She hissed through her teeth, putting a hand to her spinning head. "Are you alright?" he asked her gently, and touched her hand.

She ignored him, and the heat that his touch sent shooting up her arm. "Are we going or not?" she snapped, and took a step away from him. Shasta followed her as she took another step towards the mouth of the alley. When Scipio didn't follow her, she looked at him over her shoulder."Well?"

Scipio gave her a long, calculating gaze before shrugging and walking past her. "Follow me," he said simply.

She snorted. "About time," she muttered, and fell silent.

Neither pursued conversation until, a few streets down, Scipio suddenly grew agitated and spun around. "You wouldn't mind not telling anyone about the flirting, would you?" he asked hesitantly.

"And die of embarrassment?" she scoffed. "No, I won't tell…" She smiled slightly, and drew her finger across his lips. "My lips are sealed," she said, and then ran ahead, blushing and giggling like mad. "God, Shasta, that was so--!" She laughed gaily and twirled through a puddle.

_I wouldn't give up yet, if I were you, Dork Lord,_ she thought giddily as she caught the stupified boy watching her every move.


	2. High

"So," Rae began, having come down from her giggly, headache-induced high. She was now walking with her hands in her pockets, her hair falling from behind her ear to curtain her bashful face.

"Why the hell was I running down the alley in front of you?" the young Thief Lord asked with a sly grin.

"Yup."

"What about you, _Cara?_ Running like the devil was at your heels! It's not safe for a girl to wander alone when the sun's up, let alone in the middle of the night."

She sent him a stern look. "I was running from enemies. And my name is Rae. Or whatever. Not _Cara._ Call me what you want in private, but in company you better behave," she said sharply. _"Capisci?"_

"Whatever you say, _Cara._" She growled at his impertinent tone and stepped in front of him, hands on her hips. He crossed his arms and lifted his chin, glaring down at the short girl. "What?" he asked.

"Look,"—here she poked him in the sternum—"you are _not_ going to call me that in public, or else I'll tell whoever can understand English that you keep flirting with me."_ This is so lame. Who cares about simply flirting nowadays except a self-conscious teenage whimp? Dork Lord is right... Oh, I can't say that to his face... _Her lips twitched.

"Blackmail? Please." Scipio rolled his brown eyes and chuckled, pushing her slightly as he passed by. She examined her nails, otherwise unmoving, waiting. She knew he'd be back in a moment. Sure enough, he turned around a moment later, having seconds thoughts. "Fine. I'll stop completely if you don't tell."

She grinned and turned, skipping past him, tugging his ponytail teasingly. "Good boy."

The Thief Lord chuckled. "Now look who's flirting," he teased.

"I wasn't flirting!" she said, sharpish. She could feel her cheeks heating, and for a moment she floundered for some way to get out of the awkward situation. She "It bothers you, doesn't it? Pulling your ponytail, I mean."

He blinked. "Huh? How'd you know?" he asked stupidly.

"Kind of obvious, smart one. It bothers most people. Why not you?" She fingered her own ponytail absently, as if to say, '_Most people, including me.'_

He seemed not to know what to say, but brushed the scene off quickly. "Whatever you say, _Car—_I mean…Rae."

She smiled. "Don't get into the habit of calling me _Cara,_ or people will be suspicious even if I am silent."

He laughed freely. "Don't worry, they won't hear me."

For a few more minutes, they walked in companionable silence; the only sounds were the click of his boots (which added a good four inches to his already taller-than-average height) and Shasta's happy puddle-romp. The three finally stopped in front of a door that clearly said _'NO ENTRY'._

"Here we go," Scipio said. A rope hung from the top of the door, and he pulled it twice. A few seconds passed, then he pulled it again.

The door was flung open by a boy who Rae guessed to be Riccio—the spiked hair and rotten teeth gave it away. "Hey, Scip!" Riccio chirped, ignorant of the fact that his friend wasn't alone. "You're late again, you know."

"Sorry, Riccio," Scipio said. "I ran into someone. Meet Rae, and Shasta." The girl and dog stepped into the light. "Guys, meet Riccio."

"Welcome to the Star Palace," Riccio said gallantly, snatching her hand and blowing a kiss. "We're sponsored by the Thief Lord and we're just a big happy family of orphans and runaways. May I take your order?"

Rae smiled. "Cute," she remarked.

Thief Lord sighed and rolled his eyes. "Skip this, Riccio, let us in."

"Whatever," Riccio said cheerfully as he let them pass through the doorway. Just as he was closing it, he peered out to make sure no one was watching. When he was sure that the coast was clear, he shut the door with a snap and locked it. Then he caught up with Rae and Shasta. "The Thief Lord brings in every orphan and runaway he meets. He's given Bo two kittens already, you know! Soon we'll have all of the Merciful Sisters' kids here!"

Rae nodded absently, eyes firmly locked on the back of Scipio's imperious head. The smell of burnt pasta and grapes wafted in on the draft, and so followed the sound of rambunctious chatter. Scipio stopped abruptly, causing Rae to slam into his back. "You go ahead. Don't tell anyone about her yet. Understand?" Riccio nodded and skipped on ahead as if nothing had ever happened.

"You're really bony, you know that?" Rae moaned, rubbing her nose.

Scipio seemed in pain as well as he leaned gingerly against the wall, but he ignored her remark. "Alright. Rule number one: No one ever, ever follows me home." His voice was chillingly cold.

She nodded even though she was thinking, _But I know where you live!_

"And when we're in public—that means, anyone other than the guys in that room—call me _Thief Lord."_

"Sure thing."

"Lastly, but the most important; you _cannot_ tell a living soul about this place, _Capisci?__"_

"_Approvazione."_

He hesitated for a split second, then put a hand on her shoulder and looked her in the eye. "Don't tell anyone about the flirting, remember? That's our secret."

She looked up at him through demure lashes. "Of course I remember. What do you take me as?"

His grip on her shoulder tightened for a moment, sending another rush of chills through her body, and she was accutely aware of each of his fingers digging into her shirt, the heat of his palm warming her skin. He withdrew his hand, and all the feelings were gone just as surely as the light when one flipped a switch to Off."Time to meet the others," Scipio called, already walking down the hall.

Rae hurried after him and came out into a large hall; silence fell as soon as she appeared. Scipio raised his arms, gathering everyone's eyes to himself. "Everyone, this is Rae. Rae, meet Hornet, Mosca, Prosper, and last but definitely not least, Bo." Bo had just run up, and Scipio caught him in his arms and twirled him around. The six year old giggled and everyone else said their greetings. Rachel tried to look suave, but inside she was squirming with glee. She was meeting the characters that she had only dared _dream_ about meeting.

"Do we have a spare mattress?" Scipio asked.

"As a matter of fact, we do," Hornet said. "You can have it, Rae."

"Thanks." The two girls beamed at each other.

"What about dinner?" Mosca asked. "Only enough for six."

"I'm fine, don't worry," Rae replied, feeling a bit nauseus. She hid that with a reassuring smile.

"Alright. You're missing out on the best pasta ever, though!"

Bo and Rae ignored Mosca and grinned at each other. "D'you know any stories?" The little boy asked.

Rae smiled. "I know a lot, I guess."

"Can you tell me some? Now?" His eager smile was heartwarming, but his brother cut in quickly with, "No. Eat dinner first, then play."

"But—"

"Bo!"

"Guys!"

The Thief Lord took advantage of Rae's occupied state and strolled to the head of the table, flopping down into the chair set aside for him. "Explore if you like," he said uninterestedly, waving a lazy hand. For a moment their gazes met and she clenched her jaw. He had said it like a command, and she didn't take kindly to the look in his arrogant eyes, either. Finally, she turned heel and stomped out of the room.

Though mad, she _did _explore. She found an empty box up where Box Five would be (judging from her mental reenactment of _Phantom of the Opera)_ and decided to make it her own. Then, she folded up her coat and used it as a pillow. It was surprisingly warm in the small, closed-off room; her eyelids slid shut and her headache finally went away in time for her to plunge head-first into dreamland.

* * *

Scipio searched the entire upstairs for Rae, with no luck; he was about to give up, and a feeling of sadness swept through him. _What if she didn't like it here, and left?_ he thought to himself. He felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him, and he leaned heavily against a door, letting his head fall back to bump against the wood. The door swung open, and he just barely caught it before it slammed or he fell on his face. He straightened up and looked around the room--and then he spotted her, curled into a small ball in a warm corner of the room. He crossed the room quickly and knelt beside her, touching her arm. His chest swelled as her face crumpled slightly in her sleep, and a soft sound reverberated through her chest.

Scipio brushed her hair away from his face and leaned down to whisper in her ear, shaking her shoulder. "Rae... Rachel... Wake up, _Cara!"_

He nearly jumped out of his skin as she sat bolt upright, exclaiming, "Forty-two! The answer is forty-two! I was listening, I swear!"

He burst out laughing and sat back on his haunches. "Wow, Melantha, did you fall asleep in school or something?"

She chose to ignore that statement, but the blush rising in her cheeks betrayed her. "So, Melantha is your name for me now?" she asked, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

He shrugged. "I just want to be thorough. Anyway, I came to say goodbye, I'm leaving for the night." He held out a hand and they helped each other stand. "Thanks for not telling about the flirting," he added seriously.

"No problem," she said, yawning.

Again, he put a hand on her shoulder, dangerously close to the sensitive skin of her neck. She stiffened, holding her breath carefully. Nevertheless, his scent was already suddenly at the forefront of her thoughts. "Tell the others I'll be back tomorrow, and I might not have any loot," he said. She nodded. "I'll be back, _Cara._" As he turned, his fingers brushed the bottom corner of her jaw—it was unintentional, obviously, but Rae still felt as if she'd been struck by lightning.

When she finally managed to mumble a dazed, "Goodbye, Scipio," he was already gone.

* * *

"Kind of a long goodbye," Hornet commented as Rae came out of the stairwell and into the main auditorium.

"Your point?" Rae asked, sitting. "He wanted to clear a few things up and tell me to tell you that he'll be back tomorrow and might not have loot."

"Dang," Mosca muttered. "He hasn't been bringing any lately, and our money's low."

"Stop whining." Hornet yawned. "As for me, I'm going to turn in. Let's go get your mattress, Rae."

"But I just sat down!" Nevertheless, Rae stood and followed Hornet out.

"So," Hornet said hesitantly as the two girls struggled with the mattress in the stairwell. "What do you think of our Thief Lord?"

Rae thought for a moment and tugged the mattress as it snagged on the broken hinges of the door. "From what I've seen—not much, mind you—he's dark, mysterious, arrogant, and conceited."

Hornet didn't seem to know if she should grin or be in shock. "Wow," she managed. "Harsh."

"Yeah, well, I'm tired. Not in the best of moods, you know? Might be blowing it out of proportion." Rae shrugged and shoved the mattress in the corner. "My way to get in a better mood is to go steal some stuff. Want anything?"

Hornet blinked. "You. _Steal?_"

Rae nodded. "Yup. I could get you something, anything!"

The other girl hesitated and bit her lip. "I guess I'd like a nice hair ornament…"

"A pretty accessory to make Prosper notice you?"

"Hey!" Hornet turned bright red, but smiled sheepishly when Rae raised her eyebrows.

The new girl laughed and turned on her heel. "See you later, but don't stay up," she advised, and walked back into the stairwell.

Hornet shook her head and went into the hall to find a box where she could look down on the rest of the theater, where Prosper was lounging in a chair, listening to Bo, Riccio and Mosca chatting together. Her eyes became glazed as she fell into a daydream, but still she caught every single color of Prosper's hair where the lights hit it, the dusky color of his skin in the gentle glow, the way he smiled at Bo...

Unbidden, Hornet's hand went up to her hair. She blinked at herself, and then scowled and spun around.

"Oh, grow up!" she said to herself, but couldn't hold a straight face for long.


	3. Hellfire

**Rae's POV**

"Shasta, no! Go back and stay with Bo, you can't come with me," I hissed.

The dog whined and looked up at me with deep, sad eyes. I tried to break their spell, but how could I just send him back when he was wearing that look? Relenting, I sighed. "Stay outside and be on guard. If anyone's coming, signal. Can I hear the signal?" He barked once, quietly.

And so we set off.

We stopped in what was clearly a rich neighborhood. I'd _somehow_ known which streets to take, and ended up here. In front of me was a huge house, but I couldn't tell exactly where I was because of the nameplate was bathed in darkness. But who cared?

Deciding that this house was as good as any, I pointed to the shadows. Shasta trotted over and sat down, ears pricked.

"Good boy," I said, and then began climbing over the wall. All the lights were off in the dark courtyard, but my night vision had adjusted sufficiently. As a result, I didn't trip or knock into anything as I made my way to the door. Peering inside, I made note that there weren't any alarm systems (stupid of the owners), and then I began picking the lock. When I stepped inside, I nearly sank into the carpet; it was so soft.

I made my way upstairs, poking my head into every room along the way. Finally, I came to a pair of ornately carved doors and pushed one open. Well oiled, it made no sound as I put my shoulder against it and slipped inside. There was a large bed, right across from the door. Engulfed in the many blankets and billowing sheets slept an all too familiar Dottore.

_What the hell! How'd I get here?_

I looked around and hesitantly reached for a gold watch resting on a dresser—then pulled my hand back and backed up. No, I wouldn't steal from here. Not from here, not from this house. What if someone caught me? Scip would never trust me again… My over imaginative mind kicked into overdrive, playing through various scenarios; getting caught, Scipio recognizing me…I could pretend to not have known it was his house. Or I could—

I closed the door carefully on the Dottore and my thoughts.

Just as I was letting out the breath I'd been holding, a door opened down the hall. I spun around pressed myself into the shadows, gathering my hair around my face so that my pale skin didn't stand out. The door opened a fraction of an inch, shadows lurking behind it. I couldn't see the person who'd opened it, only a pale nose. A dark head emerged, flicking a glance left and right, wary. The contrast between shadows and moonlight was too great, and I couldn't make out who it was. But I had an idea, and as he straightened up and opened the door further my hunch was confirmed.

_Damn._

Scipio was walking down the stairs slowly, haltingly, with a slight limp. He looked about him constantly, keeping his head low like a beaten, lost dog.

Silently I followed him (Thank God I didn't wear boots like Scip. How can you sneak in those, anyway?) downstairs into what was a small display room, connected to the kitchen. I hid behind the door that he had left open and peered through the crack between the door and the frame. The lights flicked on and blinded me, but after blinking a bit my vision cleared.

Scipio pulled out a chair and collapsed in it, his head falling back in exhaustion. Behind him was a maid, a first aid box lay open on the table. She began to clean some blood off of the left side of his face and handed him an ice pack, which he pressed against his right cheek to hide a swollen, fist-shaped bruise.

_What had happened to him?_ I wondered anxiously.

"What did he do this time, Scipio?" the maid asked sympathetically.

"Can't remember past the kick," he said and gestured weakly towards his head. His voice was raspy and snagged in his throat, crackling as it passed his lips.

"You poor boy," the maid murmured.

I turned away from the door and stared into the darkness, shocked. As their words sank in, I closed my eyes and thought._ What happened…? Can I help?_ I wondered to myself. _Well, certainly not _now, _but later…? Should I confront him about it?_

Idly, I picked up a small gold statue—a fox—in some cloth, and shoved it in my sack. Following the fox were some other figurines of bronze. My thoughts swirled behind my eyes as I began wandering around the house again. Soon I had some necklaces, three lily hair ornaments made of pearl or ivory (couldn't tell in the dark), and one silver brooch in the shape of a little bird. Its feathers were of sapphire, in its beak was a ruby.

Just as I was walking through the back door, I remembered my promise I'd made to myself. I shot a guilty look at the sack I carried, then sighed and shrugged. I closed the door behind me and walked towards the gate, which had been locked from the inside. I'd picked the lock and was opening the gate when the door to the house banged open.

"Stop! Who are you?" the Dottore shouted. His voice was slurred, but still I shivered at the rage in his voice. I didn't hesitate; shoving the gate out of my way and grabbing Shasta's collar, dragging him for a few steps before letting him run on his own. The Dottore chased us down the street, but he ran out of breath soon enough. Even so, we ran all the way back to the Stella. When we reached the theater, I went in through the back; a secret way that I knew would be there, though I wasn't sure how. No one was awake--that I could tell--as Shasta and I climbed the stairwell up to our box, where I dumped my sack in a corner. For a few moments I stood in the center of my room, staring blankly at my mattress. I still needed a blanket and a pillow…

_Great._

This time I left Shasta in my room. I left the way I came in, and soon I was in front of what was obviously Ida Spavento's house. No idea how I knew, but I just _did._ Yawning, I made my way inside and pulled open the first closet I came to. A glance inside found that it was—miraculously—filled with quilts and pillows. Shrugging to myself, I chose a thick blanket that was quite obviously old, as well as a matching pillow. Both smelled of cedar. The smell of the wood brought up strong memories of home…

_Home…_ Tears pricked the back of my eyes, but I blinked them away quickly. _Crying later, get out now,_ I thought to myself.

I made my way back through the kitchen and put a hand on the doorknob, taking one last look around. The light turned on, and I froze.

"Stop where you are!"

Ida.

I spun around, coming face to face with the woman and her rifle. For a few breathless seconds we stood staring at each other, then I ducked and burst through the door, and ran all the way back to the Stella. Again. I ran on tiptoe to my room and closed the door with a soft thud, promptly collapsing against the door. I slid down to the floor, hand on my chest, wheezing. _Stupid asthma…_

Finally I caught my breath and collected myself. I pushed my mattress into the far corner of my room, putting the pillow in the exact corner. I had to fold the quilt in half just to get it _near_ fitting on the small mattress. Then I kicked off my shoes, threw off my coat, gloves, and sweater, and slid under the thick blanket.

I said my prayers out of habit, rubbing my feet together absently to try and warm them up. The smell of cedar engulfed me, and my voice broke as tears filled my eyes. "Dammit," I whispered and wiped my eyes on the back of my hand. I might never be able to hug my mom, laugh at my dad, or yell at my sisters… Shasta was all I had left.

As if sensing my thoughts, he lay down beside me and whined. I closed my eyes, pulling him closer. I held my breath (_not_ because he smelled like—well—wet dog, but because I was trying not to make a sound) and cried myself to sleep.

I dreamed of home, in December; and the rain fell around me like tears.

* * *

The next day I woke up late, but when I stumbled downstairs no one else was up. I wandered around for a bit, finally finding the bathroom, where I washed my face of the tears that encrusted my eyes and cheeks. Then I set about the task of brushing my unruly hair. When I finally came back into the main hallway, everyone was just waking up and making their way into the theater room.

I smiled, unnoticed, and went back upstairs to get my sack. Shasta, still asleep, was snoring softly on my bed. My smile broadened and I walked out with my pirate's booty thrown over my shoulder. Everyone looked up when I came into view.

"For Hornet," I said and handed Hornet all of the hair clips (they _were_ ivory, not pearl). Her jaw dropped, her eyes widened, and she held the clips up the light with a reverence that was heartwarming. I continued to watch her reaction for a moment, then dumped everything else onto the stage. "There you go," I said offhandedly and threw myself into a seat to watch their expressions: Bo grinned as he held up necklace after necklace. Prosper merely gawked at me, while Mosca had his eyes closed, seemingly praying.

Riccio gaped at the pile, eyes so wide I was afraid that they'd fall right off of his face. But no wonder he was surprised—I'd probably brought more stuff than Scip ever did (for fear of getting a maid in trouble or something). Well I _was_ the author of this story, so of course I'd be better. ...Right?

They bombarded me with questions, all of which I ignored except to give a smile.

"Breakfast, anyone?" I asked, suddenly famished. "I'll go get some!"

And I left, just like that.

* * *

When I returned, I was laden with bags and bags of food. I dropped them all on Mosca, and turned. "There. Now I'm going out for a walk. _Ciao_."

As I walked out into the crisp morning air, I sighed. In my pocket was the money left over from buying my new friends' breakfast; it was just enough to buy a loaf of fresh bread. I wasn't too hungry, actually, but I couldn't pass up the steaming, crunchy, golden crust…

I walked past a window and stopped to comb my hair a bit, staring into my reflection. Normal hazel eyes stared right back at me, extremely plain brown hair swished behind my waist, pale-ish skin contrasted with the dark clothes I wore… Everything about me was normal, plain-Jane. So why was _I_ sent into _Thief Lord_ and not some other fan? Not that I was _really_ complaining…much…

I continued walking, not eating my bread yet. My appetite was more geared towards thought than food at the moment. For instance—Scipio.He'd looked so...so..._small_ last night; like a beaten puppy who wants to grow up so it can bite back. But that left the question of _who_ beat him? His father was the only likely person (and really, he was the only other character that would fit). But _why?_ It wasn't in the book…

So lost in my mind was I that none of my brain was geared towards paying attention to where I was going. The few people who were out right now swerved to avoid me, paying me little to no mind—so I wasn't too worried about running into anyone.

I should have been.

As I turned a corner, I collided head-on with someone, and the force of the impact sent me to the ground. The other person fell onto me, and together we sprawled into a moaning, yelping, apologizing heap. "Sorry!" we both cried in unison; his familiar voice hitting my ears caused my head to jerk. _Would you look at that?_

"Scipio!"

Dressed in fancy clothes, a look of fear was frozen on his face. The deer-in-the-headlights appearance was directed at me, and his hands were trembling, ready to run.

"...Scip?"

My voice shocked him out of his trance and he shot up, scrambling away. I grabbed his wrist before he could get anywhere, then pulled myself up. "What the hell are you doing here?" I asked. He looked at the ground. A thought hit me, and a tendril of cold dread curled in my gut. "Your father isn't with you, is he?" This time, my voice was urgent.

"No, I sneak out sometimes to get away—" He stopped, an entire other person appearing on his face. "Did you follow me home?" he asked, suspicion in his voice. Though there_ was _suspicion in his voice, the look on his face seemed almost amused.

I chose to ignore that. "Now, I'm going to let you go. You're _not_ going to run, _capisci?"_

He nodded and relaxed, and I let go. Using my freshly freed hand, I ripped off a hunk of bread and handed it to him.

"How'd you know about my father?" he asked as we began to walk along.

"I know all of the rich families of Venice," I said calmly. Of course this was an absolute lie. "Including yours, Massimo. It's part of my job."

"I probably should have asked about that job before taking you in," he murmured. "So, what else do you know about me?"

I took a bite of my bread. "Well," I said around my chewing (great manners, Rae), "you're not actually a Thief Lord, for starters… Oh, by the way, I got some loot last night. The gang's gawking over it at home." I smiled innocently at him.

He raised an eyebrow. "So you're the thief my father is cursing to hell?" He glanced at me with a mix of arrogant disbelief, and appreciative admiration in his eyes. I _tried_ to arrange my face into an innocent expression—really, I tried!—but my wolfish grin kind of defeated the purpose.

"Maybe," I said and he laughed.

"So, _Cara,"_ he began. I blushed when two nearby girls giggled at us, but tried to ignore them. "What were you doing not paying attention to where you were going?" It was as if he hadn't noticed the girls.

"Thinking," I replied coolly and swerved to avoid crashing with a man who wore an obviously false mustache and beard—_what? NO!_ I froze, eyes locked on the man who'd just walked past me. My heart slammed against my ribs.

That was definitely Victor Getz.

"_Merda,_" I whispered. In reply to Scipio's raised eyebrow, I explained. "Victor Getz, the detective that's after Prosper and Bo? That's him."

"I see…" His dark eyes narrowed, as if trying to read Victor's mind. "Let's tail him."

I snorted. "Are you kidding? You've got no experience! No offense, but you're not a thief." Neither was I, but still...

He attempted to glare, but his gaze was more hurt than angry. "I'm good at following people. It's the thievery that I haven't done," he said quietly. His voice was definitely hurt. Dang. Now I felt bad… To remedy this, I gave him a one armed hug.

"Well then, _Tail Lord,_ let's tail Getz," I said, and then ran off after Getz. Scipio followed a few seconds later, scowling at my back.

We followed Victor for about an hour and a half, then I heard Scip's watch beep. It gave me a thought. "Hey, do you have any lessons or something you need to get back to?" I asked.

Scip didn't meet my eyes. "…Maybe…"

I turned to him, exasperated. "Quite obviously you do! When?" I put my hands on my hips and gave him the dreaded _Evil Eye._ He cringed.

"Ten minutes," he admitted.

I glanced at my watch (had I had it before…?) and then looked around, checking my internal map. "If we run we can make it," I sighed, and grabbed his hand. For a moment he just stood there, and then his warm, thin hand curled around mine and held on for dear life as I dragged him into an alley. Soon, we came out close to his house. I looked around a corner, then turned back to Scipio. "I shouldn't be seen with you, I think," I said quietly.

He nodded. "Right." For a moment we stood there, hand in hand, staring at each other blankly. Then he leaned back into the wall, hands in his pockets and eyes closed, trying to catch his breath.

I moved closer to him and was about to put a hand on his shoulder, but stopped and let it fall. "Scip," I said gently, trying to catch his attention. He looked up. "Be—"

_"SCIPIO!"_

The voice of the Dottore cut me off, and Scipio cringed, as though expecting his father to jump out and hit him. He didn't look at me, gaze anywhere but my face. _"Arrivederci,"_ he murmured, and then hurried off to his house.

I ran out after him, but then backpedalled. "Be careful!" I hissed, but the door was already slamming shut. Muffled shouts leaked out from an open window, but I didn't stay to find out what was happening. I turned, mind reeling, jaw clenched, steaming.

I had no doubt in my mind that Scipio's father abused him, and I worried.


	4. Catch Your Balance

My lip was numb from my biting it so much. I'd been gnawing on it the entire time I'd been walking, all the while thinking and worrying about Scipio. I'd decided there wasn't much I could do—at the moment—but be there for him and be the best friend I could be, but I still felt anxious. I turned a corner and nearly bumped into someone who had a camera in her hands.

"What is with people and bumping into me? Sorry."

I looked up and saw…Ida Spavento. Staring at me.

Can you say 'Crap'?

"You!" she exclaimed.

I blinked in innocent befuddlement. "Me what?"

She glared at me. "Now, don't play innocent with me," she said sternly. "You stole from my house last night."

"Me? Steal? _Madonna,_ I wouldn't do that!" I said. "Last night I was at dinner with my _ragazzo_, and then I went home. No, I couldn't have!"

She scoffed. "I doubt it. Last night you were in my house, and you stole some blankets!" Her gaze softened. "I understand if you really need them, though."

Great. Now she was making me feel guilty. Before I spilled my guts and broke into a sobbing wreck in front of her, I nodded to her. "I really must get going. My friends are expecting me, and it wouldn't do to worry them," I said, ducked my head, and pushed past her as fast as I could.

"If you ever need to talk!" she called after me.

I raised a hand but didn't look back.

As soon as I rounded the corner I went all out and kept running till I reached the Star Palace, and I banged on the door. Prosper opened it a few moments later and I smiled at him. "Yo, Prop!" I puffed and then walked inside like nothing happened.

He closed the door and caught up with me. "What's up? Running so fast and pounding on the door as though the Devil himself was at your heels!"

I laughed somewhat breathlessly. "Is it a sin that I wanted to see my friends again? No, Prosper, maybe I'll tell you someday," I said, and picked up Bo as he came running at me.

"Last night you forgot the stories! Tell me a story, Rae!" he whined cheerfully. I laughed and carried him up to the stage.

"How about I act it out for you—paint it into your imagination?" I asked as I sat him down in the front row.

He clapped in excitement. "Please, please, please!"

I laughed and stood on the stage. "What story?" I murmured to myself and took off my jacket and threw it at Prosper, where it landed on his face. I ignored him and thought for a moment, sitting down and sliding my feet out of my shoes.

"Hm…Any ideas, Bo? Give me a theme."

He thought seriously for a moment. "Water. The canals…the sea," he suggested after a bit of pondering.

I grinned. _"Va bene!_" I said, and leapt up and leaned down over the edge of the stage.

"Now, _Angelo,_ I want you to know that I can only do one part each day—maybe two on good days, but today only one. Would you like me to do it now, or do it tonight, when I could have our Thief Lord's audience and make it a _royal_ presentation?" I asked in a quiet voice.

He looked awed. "Tonight! Scip will love to see this, won't he, Prop?!"

Prosper grinned at me. "You better be prepared, Rae," he said.

I grinned. "I'll go get some props, Prop."

* * *

**3rd PPOV**

Rae walked up to Hornet, carrying a cup of hot chocolate. Hornet was standing at the mouth of the alley that led down to their entrance into the Stella, shivering and trying to keep warm by rubbing her hands together and jumping up and down.

Bo had wanted to wait until Scipio came for Rae to start telling the story, but Scipio hadn't shown up at the normal time, and Hornet had volunteered to wait for him. That had been an hour and a half ago.

"Come on, I'm not waiting anymore," Rae said and handed Hornet a cup of hot chocolate. Hornet took it and held it close, breathing in deeply the sweet aroma as they walked inside. They walked into the theater and Rae walked up to the stage. Just as she was about to climb up onto it, Shasta bounded in, his fur soaking wet. He was barking frantically and jumped on her, pinning her to the ground, barking in her face. "Wha-?" Rae exclaimed.

Shasta howled and kept barking. Rae pushed him off forcefully and Hornet put her cup down so she could grab Shasta's collar. His black, white-tipped ears were flat against his skull, and he whined and howled and barked as if trying to start an earthquake.

"Shasta!" Rae snapped, facing him sternly. He whined and gave a howl, broke off and barked twice, then howled again.

"What's wrong?" Prosper asked, running in with Mosca and Riccio at his heels.

"Shhh!" Rae snapped. "You want me to follow?" she asked her dog, turning back to him.

He barked once—_'Yes.'_

"What's going on, Rae?" Bo asked worriedly, coming out from behind the curtains.

"Shasta wants me to follow him—he keeps saying 'danger' and 'you come' over and over," Rae said, and knelt down in front of her dog, who whined softly. "Just me?" She asked him, holding his head still between her hands.

He barked once.

"Guys, I'm going to let him go and I'm going to follow him," she said.

"Wait, we'll go—" Mosca began, but Rae glared at him.

"I'm going. Just me. Shasta says that it's only me." Mosca gulped at her look. She looked back at Hornet. "Let him go," she said.

Hornet hesitated. "Rae, shouldn't—" she began.

"Let him _go!"_

Hornet let go of the Border Collie and he bolted to the door. Rae pushed past Prosper, shoved the door open, and girl and canine disappeared into the night.

Shasta was low to the ground as he led Rae on, like how Border Collies do when they're herding sheep. His ears were swiveling around at every slight noise. Rae took this to mean that she should be careful, and she ran as silently as she could in the shadows, her hat pulled down so that no one who glanced her way would notice her by her light skin. Finally, Shasta crept up to a familiar wall.

"Scipio's house?" Rae whispered, confused. Shasta put his left forepaw up in a 'shake' motion to signal a silent 'yes'. Rae bit her lip and looked up at the wall, following his gaze. "Don't move," she whispered, and then climbed the wall. When she reached the top, she sat down for a moment and looked up at the building, trying to see where she should go. There was a light in behind the curtains behind the door to a balcony, and—judging from her knowledge of the house—she knew it to be Scipio's. Carefully using a tree to climb onto a window ledge, she balanced there and planned her way up.

_Wow, this feels…cool,_ she thought to herself. She hadn't planned on writing this (or most of the things that had happened), but she liked it so far. This endeavor made her feel like a superhero or something.

She took a step back, then propelled herself forward and jumped. She managed to grab onto a higher balcony's decorative ledge, and dropped onto the balcony underneath. Another jump and she was one level higher…and on Scipio's level, too, which was a bonus. There were two balconies between her and Scipio's, but the space in-between each balcony was _just_ safe jumping distance. She carefully crouched on the metal railing on the balcony she was on, jumped across to the next, and landed on her feet on the balcony. She did the same once more, and then she would just have to jump one more time and then she'd be at Scipio's room, and she'd be able to find out what was wrong.

The glass doors that led to the balcony were open and the white curtains inside were closed, and they waved in the cold Venetian wind. Rae shivered slightly, a bad feeling settling in her gut. She had a hunch that she should take care to be unnoticed.

Rae prepared herself to jump onto Scipio's balcony and just as she jumped she lost her footing and came up short. She was hanging by one hand from the floor of the balcony, her feet dangling over a swamp of blackness and trees; she was wearing her gloves, thankfully, and they did a good job of protecting her hand from the scraping cement of the balcony. But her fingers felt like cold, rough knives were sawing at them.

She ground her teeth and blinked away pained tears as she brought her left hand up and fixed her grip. She thought for a moment. This was like the time on the monkey-bars where she wanted to get on top, but was hanging in the middle of the bars. She had swung herself so she had gotten enough height in her lower body to hang on with her legs to the bars in front, and then she had used her flexibility to pull herself up.

She began to swing sideways, right-left…right…left…

Soon her feet came up to the balcony, and she managed to hook her right foot in the balcony's metal railing. She pulled her left foot up and used that to help push the rest of her up so she could grasp the top of the railing. Finally, she pulled herself up and sighed, catching her breath. All this had been done quietly, with only the sound of her breathing able to be heard. She swung one leg over the railing, and then the other.

She was safe!

She silently walked over to the curtains and looked into the room through a small opening between the white cloth. Scipio's room was simple: A nice bed, a bookcase, a dresser and a mirror, and a closet. There were two doors. The walls were a warm cream color and the borders and ceiling were white. The floor was wood, and the room had a feeling of safety and warmth and love.

The door to the hall was open, and she could see all the way down to the stairs. Scipio himself was walking up the hall to his room, his head held high. His dark eyes were hard and defiant, as though he wanted to say something to somebody but wasn't able to. He didn't need to, in Rae's opinion—his eyes were enough to say "I _hate_ you", and much more expressive than words. He was wearing a black jacket that was unbuttoned and underneath he wore a white shirt. His collar was unbuttoned, revealing purple bruises that looked suspiciously like fingers. He walked inside his room and closed the door, locking it with a flick of his wrist. Just as he was turning around, there was a sound like a raging bull rampaging down the hall. The door shook on its hinges.

"Open the door you little brat!"

It was the Dottore.


	5. Tears and Fears

**We left off with:**

_"Open the door you little brat!"_

_It was the Dottore.

* * *

_

Scipio's jaw clenched, as did his fists. For a moment, Rae thought that he wouldn't open the door. His shoulders tensed, his eyes flashed… But he turned; eyes ablaze with cold fury. Scipio gritted his teeth and turned back to the door, every aspect of his posture and expression screaming hatred. He gripped the doorknob and opened the door just enough to be able to see through the space with his right eye.

"It's open. What?" he asked darkly.

The door was thrown open and Scipio was pushed shoved backwards violently, only just managing to keep his footing. "What was the meaning of that comment?" the Dottore roared at his son. Rae didn't know what comment he was talking about, but it was probably something she hadn't been present for. "Tell me, you godforsaken brat!" Rae shuddered as the Dottore's voice swept over her.

Although Scipio did not cringe, Rae could see that he was ready to jump out of the way of an attack. "I thought you were smart. You know what I meant. You know exactly what I meant!" Scipio said, his voice dripping with venomous hatred and a cold amusement that sent chills down Rae's spine. The Dottore's face was turning deeper red with every breath Scipio took, and Rae's could practically see the sparks flying from the Dottore's eyes.

_Scip, stop it before it's too late!_

"You will do as I say! I will not have you turning out like--like…" The Dottore's voice was rising, and so was the danger. _Don't say anything, Scipio! _Rae pleaded silently. She didn't want her friend to send his father over the edge.

"Like you?" Scipio spat.

From behind the curtains, Rae saw something snap in the Dottore. There were no words, but she didn't need words to understand the horrid things the Dottore was thinking. The Dottore's fist connected solidly with Scipio's left cheek, the man's entire weight behind it. Scipio collapsed, gasping, and a white, shaking hand flew up to his face. He pulled his fingers away; they were sticky with blood. An old wound had opened again with the force of the blow. Rae almost cried out, but it caught in her chest as the curtains fluttered open slightly. Scipio's dark eyes shot up and met hers, mirroring her terror in their black depths.

A polished shoe swung towards Scipio's head, and Rae closed her eyes, backing away. Her hands clamped down over her ears, but the sickening _Crack!_ seemed to penetrate into her very heart. The cry of pain that followed the blow simply shattered her, and her lip trembled. Tears streamed down her face, incited by the horrible things the Dottore shouted at Scipio's unconscious form, as he continued to kick the poor, limp boy.

She couldn't stand staying there, unable to do anything while running the risk of getting caught. Shaking, she stumbled to the edge of the balcony and swung off, landing on the wall—which was wet. Her sneaker slipped on the slick stone and she fell onto the cobblestones below with a loud thud and a burst of stars.

A sob ripped from her throat and she wiped at her face furiously. Shasta whined urgently and slunk out from the shadows.

_This isn't the place to cry,_ Rae told herself, pushing herself up. _Not here, not here,_ she repeated as she hurried back to the Stella.

When she finally got back to the Stella, she pounded on the door and waited. It was raining hard, washing away her tears and numbing her face. Both the girl and her dog looked like they'd been drowned in the canal, Prosper noticed as he opened the door. Mosca and Riccio peered around him.

"Rae! What happened?" Prosper asked, eyes wide in shock. "Why're you crying?"

Rae stumbled past, shaking her head and sending droplets of rain flying. She whimpered softly, scrubbing her cheeks. She did not go to the auditorium room, or anywhere she knew Bo and Hornet would be. Instead she found the stairwell and went inside. As Mosca and Riccio began bombarding her with questions, she slammed the door in their faces and locked it. Prosper, seemingly understanding that she needed to be alone at the moment, reprimanded his two friends.

Shasta went on ahead, leaving a trail of water behind him. Rae trudged her way up the stairs and finally made it to her 'room'. Numbly, she slid out of her coat and hung it over the back of a chair to dry, found her spare clothes and changed, putting the rest of the stuff underneath the table.

She toweled Shasta down, making him look like he'd been replaced with a giant Pomeranian. Then Rae flopped down onto her bed, burying her soaked face into her warm pillow. Downstairs, she heard Bo asking what was wrong. He sounded so worried about her that she felt worse. She lay there and cried, but soon her tears slowed and the rain against the skylight lulled her into a fitful sleep.

* * *

The crash of someone knocking over furniture woke Rae, and she sat up. "Who's there?" she asked, voice hoarse. After rubbing her eyes and squinting, she made out a familiar ponytail. "Scipio!" She gasped, standing up and rushing over to light a candle. When the candle was burning, she turned around and placed it on the table, gaping at Scipio. He was a mess.

Dried blood matted his hair, and the entire left side of his face was covered with browning liquid. An angry, fist-shaped bruise was painted on his cheek, and she could see fresh bruises around his neck. He was pale, and his eyes were hollow. As he looked down at her, she felt a pang of helplessness.

"What the hell happened to you?" Scipio asked softly, and touched her damp cheek. His voice was low and worried.

"I could ask _you _the same thing!" she said angrily, and pulled away from his hand. He shook his head—then stopped abruptly, a grimace on his lips. He put a hand to his pounding temple, swaying dangerously. Rae gritted her teeth and pushed him into a chair, then grabbed her first aid kit. "You're an idiot," she muttered and opened the kit with a snap. He let her clean him up, and accepted a crush-and-cold ice pack for his cheek.

"What were you doing at my house?" Scipio asked her as she ran her hands through his hair, trying to get the blood out with water.

"We were waiting for you to come, and when you didn't we waited. After about an hour or so we got tired and went inside. Then Shasta goes insane, tells me to follow him alone. So I do, and we end up at your house and I climb up and see…you know…" Rae trailed off, and knelt in front of Scipio, tilting his chin up so she could examine his neck. "You shouldn't have pushed him so far," she said softly.

"You don't understand," he whispered, lashes fluttering as he peered down at her; his eyes then flickered away and his face twisted as he remembered. "I knew he'd snap, I knew it would end badly for me… But I don't _care_! I just keep hoping he—hoping he'll… I just keep hoping that he'll see how much I care about him, I keep hoping he'd calm down and say 'I'm sorry' and be a better father!"

Rae stood and sat down on the edge of the chair next to him, wrapping him in a hug, pulling him close. He relaxed and rested his head on her shoulder, sighing wearily. Idly, she rubbed his arm. "I do understand," she said soothingly. "I understand more than you know."

He snorted softly. "Whatever."

Sighing, she rolled her eyes. "So, why're you really here?"

"Only place to go," he replied dully.

She nodded and held him tighter. "You can have my bed for tonight," she said.

_That _got a real reaction out of him. He sat up and looked at her, surprised. "Your bed? Don't you have to sleep?" he asked.

She smiled bitterly. "I slept earlier. And I had nightmares. If I go to sleep again I'll have more. So I don't need to sleep, but _you_, on the other hand, do. Now, I'm going to go snatch a book from Hornet. You better be under the blanket when I get back, or else." She kissed his un-bruised cheek and then bolted out of the room.

Scipio remained sitting for a few moments, then took off his jacket and shoes and walked over to the mattress Rae had. He hesitated for another fraction of a second, but made up his mind and slipped beneath the covers.

* * *

**Rae's POV**

When I came back to my room, I assumed Scipio was asleep; he was lying under the blanket with his back to me and the rest of the room, curled up in a ball from what I could see. I _thought_ he was asleep, but as I set a second candle on the table and went over to the mattress to see if I had any more matches, I noticed his shoulders shaking. I sighed and put my book down, moving closer.

"Are you alright?" I asked. _Stupid question, Rae…_

He sniffed and bobbed his head, completely unconvincingly. I pulled on his shoulder, hard enough to roll him onto his back. He was completely limp and unresisting, head falling to the side. Conveniently, he was facing away from me, which hid the fact that he was trying not to cry.

"What's wrong?" I murmured, and laid down beside him, propping myself up on my elbows. "Don't tell me 'nothing', either."

"You want to know? Look at me," he rasped. "My father hates me. He says I'm nothing, and it's true. I'm nothing but a speck of dust to the rest of the world, I'm a liar, I'm a loser. If any of the guys knew my secret, they'd agree. I am absolutely _worthless._"

"Don't say that!" I snapped. He didn't bother reply, sniffing again. I sighed and grabbed his chin, turning him to look at me. "Look at me, Scipio." His eyes snapped to my face. Tears rolled from the corners of his eyes and streaked down the sides of his face, and I promised myself that after I was done yelling at him I'd wipe them away. "You are _not_ nothing. That man who calls himself your father is not someone who you should listen to regarding his opinion of you. And look at what you've done for the others! Given them a home, safety, food, and a _life_! Nobody likes being lied to, but it's in their best interest. If they'd known who you were before, they wouldn't have accepted your offer, where would they be now? If they find out, they'll understand that. They _have_ to forgive you! If they don't, I'll sic Shasta on them and kick their sorry hides myself."

"You think you understand, _Cara?"_ he asked stonily. A glimmer of the Thief Lord was in his eyes.

"For whatever reason you took those guys off of the streets, and for whatever reason you still do the things you do, you still did them. Eventually the others will come to the conclusion that you did it for their betterment, and I _know_ there is no other reason than that. You're a very selfless person, Scipio." He sighed as I kissed his forehead, letting go of his chin so that I could gently wipe away his tears; I could feel his eyes on me as I walked back to the table and opened my book to read. Behind me, he continued to watch me for a few more moments before rolling over and settling down.

I hoped he would have better sleep than I did.

* * *

Sleep evaded him, and he was still awake when Rae closed her book and blew out the candle. He heard her bare feet padding across the carpet, and he felt a chill as she lifted the blankets and slipped in beside him. He was _extremely_ aware of her small body curled behind his back, fingers brushing his spine as she settled down. The faint notes of a hummed lullaby reached his ears, and finally his eyes closed. He relaxed, the last of his tears beginning to slip down his cheeks.

Soon, the entire room was sunk in dreamland.

More than once, Scipio would toss and turn in a nightmare, waking Rae with a firm elbow to her gut. While he'd never wake up, she'd slide an arm around him and pull him close—both for her own protection, and to soothe him. Sometimes she'd run her hand through his silken hair, from his forehead down to the back of his head, and with a slight shudder he'd settle down and move closer to her side. Eventually, he sank into a dreamless sleep and relaxed completely, allowing her to sleep…

Maybe it was just her dreaming mind, but more than once she thought she heard Scipio whisper her name.


	6. Out of Control

**Rae's POV**

Before the sun was even up, I was up and moving downstairs. I washed my face in the bathroom, wrote a quick note saying that I was going to get breakfast, and, not feeling up to stealing, I gathered some money we had left and went to a pastry shop. This seemed a good way to make up for being a total storm cloud over their heads last night.

When I got back, everyone was still asleep. I set up the table, pulled up chairs, set places…and still everyone was asleep. Finally, I decided to explore the theater some more. As I walked through the aisles and aisles of deteriorating chairs, something caught my eye. It was shoved underneath one of the chairs, but it seemed shiny and new. I bent to pick it up.

It was a book, and on the cover was a familiar figure and title: _The Thief Lord._

For a few moments I flipped through it in shock, then felt something under my fingers. On the cover was a sticky note.

_Rae,_ (it began)

_What are you going to do? How are you going to show Scipio that he doesn't want to be an adult? What are you going to do to change the story, or are you going to leave it alone? And what _are_ your feelings regarding poor, poor Scipio? Remember, _you_ are in control of the story. You control everything here. Don't let your emotions rule your pen though, or else you'll not only be a Mary Sue, you'll be a crybaby, spazzy, total…you get the idea._

_I know you have questions you want answered, and they will be, when I get around to that. Be patient._

_Follow your heart, but rule with your head._

As you can tell, it was a large post-it.

It wasn't signed, and I was slightly ticked that I was only presented with more questions, and no answer. Well, one answer was there: I _was_ able to get Scipio to stay his age, if only I changed the story enough.

"Mornin', Rae," a sleepy voice called from behind me.

I spun around, shoving the book in my pocket. "Riccio! Good morning!" I said cheerfully, and had to laugh at his hair. It was worse than ever, and I was absolutely sure that the breakfast I'd gotten wouldn't be good for his teeth. "Sleep well?" I asked.

He nodded as he collapsed in a chair at the table. He hadn't even opened his eyes yet. "What's for breakfast?" he mumbled.

"Open your eyes."

He opened his eyes, and three seconds later he was completely awake. "Thanks, Rae!" he exclaimed, already beginning to stuff his face. I gave a plastic smile and edged towards the closest exit.

"I'll be right back." He didn't hear me.

I walked up to my floor, but went past my room. I kept walking, looking left and right for somewhere that no one would look. Finally, I came to an old door with a key in the lock. The metal was rusted together, but I got it out with only a bit (I lie, a LOT) of trouble. I had to use all of my weight and a bit more to open the door, and then stumbled into the room. Inside was an old office room, dusty but in good condition. The furniture, sparse as it was, didn't even had holes in it. There was a bar at the far end of the room, where dusty bottles of liquor sparkled through a thick coat of dust.

I walked over to examine the bar, opening shelves underneath the counter. They were filled with empty bottles and sweet smelling corks. Just when I was about to give up and search elsewhere, I saw a small, almost-hidden handle near the floor. I knelt and gave it a tug. It slid open silently, snagging only a tiny bit. It was _just _big enough for _Thief Lord_ to fit inside. I closed it, peered over the counter, and then walked out of the room. I pulled on the door with all my might until it closed all the way, then locked it with my key. Now it wouldn't budge unless a bull ran at it head on!

I took off my simple necklace of a chain and a cross, and hung the key on it. I slipped my necklace back on and tucked it beneath my shirt, heading back downstairs.

Hornet, Mosca, Bo and Prosper were now up and seated around the table to eat. They looked up as I entered and thanked me for the breakfast; I just smiled. After a few more moments of light banter, they went back to wolfing down the food and I left to go find Bo's kittens. One I saved from falling off of the stage, and it curled up in my arms. I sat in one of the seats and yawned, pulling my legs up and leaning to the side. My eyes slipped closed, and I relaxed, letting my thoughts drift…

* * *

**3rd POV**

Rae woke to someone carefully placing a blanket on her shoulders. She yawned and opened her eyes to see Scipio standing over her, tucking the blanket around her. He smiled and she mirrored the expression—that is, until she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and saw him clearly.

Scipio looked like he'd been through Hell (which he had, in a way). His entire left cheek, from the bottom of his eye down to his jaw, was a nasty mix of purples, blacks and greens, and his entire neck was covered with imprints of purple fingers. He must have had a splitting headache and a bump the size of a baseball on his head, too. She gawked.

"Are you _okay?"_ she demanded as he said, "Sorry for waking you."

"I'm alright," they said in unison, and then they smiled at each other hesitantly.

"How'd you sleep, _Principessa?"_ she asked, trying to change the mood. She sprang up and pushed him into a chair to avoid a shove directed at her shoulder. "Look who woke up on the wrong side of the bed!" she crooned, and then ducked, grabbing his wrist. She giggled as she caught his other hand.

He scowled. "Beaten by a girl," he mumbled.

"And what's wrong with that?" she asked in mock-anger. "You'll be beaten by this girl in everything, so get used to it!"

He chuckled, scowl melting away. "Now I see the person who woke on the wrong side of the bed!" he said smartly. She rolled her eyes. "By the way, aren't you going to the Redbeard's with Prosper today?"

Her expression became blank. "Oh…yeah."

He grinned and twisted his hands, and suddenly _he_ was holding her wrists. She blinked in surprise and tried to slip away.

He wouldn't let go.

She looked at him in the eye and blushed at his roguish grin. "Well, _Cara,_ this is interesting." He stood and leaned forward. She leaned back, stepping to the side—he followed, and soon they'd turned completely around and she was being pushed into the chair.

"Uh, Scip…" Her mind was completely blank, dazed as his breath swirled against her face. Her mouth watered. "You know, I think that your brains were scrambled when you got kicked," she said nervously. She was perched on the back of the chair now, leaning backwards at a dangerous angle. If his grip loosened just a fraction, she'd fall over completely.

He was so close to her that she could feel his chest against hers, and his bangs were brushing her forehead. His lips were taking up her entire vision, and her eyes were wide with shock. _Holy—_

"Rae, you ready to go yet?" Prosper stopped, freezing at the sight of his two friends. Scipio jumped away from Rae like a child caught reaching for the cookie jar, and in turn she fell off the back of the aisle and into the space between it and the next. A pained moan escaped her lips and she sat up agonizingly slowly.

"Did I just interrupt something?" Prosper asked, an amused smile on his face.

Rae glared at him. "If you know what's good for you, you'll keep your trap shut and forget you saw anything," she snarled and shoved Scipio's hand away from her, pushing herself up and stomping to the door. "Let's go!" she spat at Prosper, and stormed off.

Prosper cast a calculating glance at Scipio, gauging his expression. The dark boy was watching the door Rae had just left through with a strange expression; he looked like a sad puppy, an amused boy, and at the same time he seemed to be kicking himself in his head. Prosper _definitely_ heard the angry, "What were you _thinking?_" Scipio muttered to himself as Prop walked out after Rae.

The girl stopped when they reached the exit, where she whistled and waited for Shasta to join them. Prosper wordlessly held the door open for them, and then led them to Barbarossa's.

* * *

**Rae's POV**

"Don't touch _anything_; he has eyes like a hawk and a peephole in this portrait where he watches the people," Prosper said.

"I know Prop," I said. "You said that already. You said everything twice already." I had cooled down since the addled-brained Scipio incident, and now we were walking across Piazza San Marco to the shop where the loot of Mr. Dork-Stupid-Idiot-Butthead Lord was turned into money. "And I know how to deal with the Redbeard."

He nodded and we walked inside.

A fat man rushed past us to a customer, but hissed to Prosper, "Wait in my office; don't touch _anything_!" He watched me for a moment, studying my new face, and then went to sell something. Prosper rolled his eyes and dragged me behind a curtain into a smaller room. He sat down in one of the seats and gestured for me to join, but I shook my head and leaned against the wall. Idly, I pulled out my notebook and pen.

I glanced at Prosper, who was looking out the window at Shasta, who I had commanded to sit where he was. I quickly wrote myself a weapon… Just for fun. There was a sudden weight at my hip, and a cursory glance revealed that it came from a sheathed dagger. _That's just…awesome._

"Well then!" Barbarossa's loud voice caused Prosper to jump in surprise. I whipped my head around to glare at the fatso. He rubbed his hands together and sat down behind the desk. "What have you today?" he asked, grinning at Prosper. "Glass jewels? Fake metals?"

Prosper's face went stony, and I kept my cool façade on. Prop emptied the sack of my loot (I had gotten _quite_ a bit. When we'd sold three figurines out of the thirty or so I'd stolen, it got us a _ton_ of money, so we still had a lot left) onto the desk, and Barbarossa's eyes widened for only a second before he turned it into his previous look. I knew that if Prop worked his magic we'd walk out a whole lot richer, regardless of Barbarossa's looks and whines.

Before the Redbeard moved a finger towards the loot, he raised an eyebrow at me. "And who are you? Another little messenger who's going to break my—"

Prosper cut him off. "Bo didn't break that!" he protested.

"_Silencio! _I know he broke it, and I'll have to deduct money for it."

_Payback time. _"For your information, Redbeard, _I_ am Thief Lord's partner," I said, ignoring their little spat. "Does that answer your question?" I grinned mentally when I saw Redbeard's eyebrows shoot up. Prosper smirked at me quickly, before bowing his eyes to keep from laughing.

"Really?" Redbeard asked. He looked me up and down. "Quite young to be a_socio nel crimine,_ a partner in crime, don't you think?"

"So? I stole all the loot this time, and don't think I didn't see your reaction, Redbeard," I countered. He glared at me sullenly. "Thief Lord has sent me to look over this transaction. This was a good steal—I should know—and we want a fair price."

He looked like he was going to pop a gasket, so I calmly brought his attention to my dagger by cracking my fingers and resting a hand on the hilt. He harrumphed and then began picking through the loot, inspecting everything, inspecting them, fingering them, putting them down, and then looking at them again.

While he looked over the loot, Prosper grinned at me slyly. _Payback?_ he mouthed.

I smirked. _Payback._ Let this teach that no good Princess to be an idiot like that... I gritted my teeth, my smirk turning into a scowl.

I glanced out the window at Shasta, making sure he wasn't wandering off. I could trust him when we were outside a house, stealing, when no one was around--but with so many people nearby… He was lying in front of the window, out of the light rain that was falling.

Barbarossa's loud cough brought me back to the room. "Would you like me to give you my best offer, or start with yours?" he asked, lacing his fat fingers together. I mentally thought of how Shasta would probably love Barbarossa-finger sausages… Never mind, he'd probably get poisoned.

"Give your best offer," Prop said evenly.

"I'll give you four hundred. This brooch is most of it," Barbarossa said, nodding at the brooch I had stolen.

_Thought so._

"We want _seven__teen_ hundred," Prop said. "Take it or leave it."

The fatso was turning redder and redder, steadily reaching the same shade as his beard. Was that burgundy or scarlet? Hm… "Outrageous!" Barbarossa shrieked. "I offer you much more than I should, and you make absurd requests! Tell the _Thief Lord_ to send more mannered messengers, or my business days with him are over!" he spat at me.

I grinned at him maliciously. "I'd sleep with your eyes open from now on, _Signor_," I said in a frightening voice, and then snapped at Prosper, "Gather it up, and let's go to _Gabrielle's_; they gave us eighteen hundred yesterday, let's see if they will today!"

"Alright, Rae," Prosper said, and began to take his time in putting the stuff in his bag. He added the brooch last. I stood up from my relaxed position against the wall, and flipped my dagger, catching it by the hilt again and again.

Barbarossa grumbled and slumped in his chair. "Fine," he muttered grumpily. "I'll give you fifteen hundred for the lot." He glared at us. "But that's only for the brooch and the figurines. You keep stealing items like this, and we'll have many days of business together." Redbeard opened a drawer and fished out the money. He handed it to Prop who handed it to me.

I made sure to check if it was fake or not—it wasn't fake—and I put it in my jacket pocket and zipped it up. "Thank you for your understanding, _Signor _Barbarossa_,_" I said quietly. "But watch your back."

Taking the threat, he looked suddenly nervous, and watched me warily as I led Prosper out.

* * *

"How was that, huh?" I asked Prosper, grinning at him and feeding Shasta some of my _gelato._ We were sitting in front of the shop, eating our treats that I had bought with my own pocket money.

Prosper grinned at me. "Can't wait to see how Scip reacts when he hears that you're his new _complice!"_ I grinned in reply. "Especially after that…_incident_ this morning," Prosper continued.

My grin disappeared and I nearly shoved his _gelato_ into his face. "Sleep with your eyes open, Prosper," I said quietly. A shiver crept up my spine suddenly, and I looked around. Behind Prosper I saw someone who I recognized clearly from the other day.

_Victor!_

"Your threats don't frighten me, Rae," Prosper said, bringing me back to earth. "We should be getting back," he added as an afterthought.

"No!" I yelped, and my ice cream dropped onto the ground. Shasta hurriedly began eating. "I mean, you should finish that first…I don't really feel like facing Scipio right now," I explained swiftly. Prosper nodded unquestioningly and kept eating. Soon Victor disappeared around a corner, and Prosper finished eating. Shasta was whining at me for another. "No," I said to him, and kissed his nose. He huffed slightly and then we began heading back.

I smiled smugly to myself. _I can control this story…I can keep Bo and Prop from being caught, and Hornet from being sent to the orphanage, and I could even teach Scipio how to steal! _But then, once I realized what I had said, and backtracked. _After he's not so…CRAZY!_

_And then he won't have to steal the wing, and he won't ride the merry-go-round and be an adult! If he can really steal he won't need his father, and then I might be able to take Ida up on her offer and then maybe we could all live there!_

_But what if he wants to be an adult?_ I asked myself.

* * *

Soon we were back at the Star-Palace and Prop was knocking on the door. "Password?" a voice asked.

"Mosca, just open the door, we've got money!"

The door flew open and Mosca, Riccio, and Bo both grinned up at us. "How much?" Bo demanded, his eyes shining with adoration.

"Enough to celebrate with more sweets!" I announced, handing him a red box. He gasped, his eyes wide. I grinned and walked inside, handing boxes to Riccio and Mosca. I was first to the room where Hornet was, and I dumped the packet of money onto the stage. _"Viola,"_ I said to her, and her jaw dropped.

"How much?" she whispered.

"Fifteen hundred," I said proudly, and then sat down.

Scipio walked in, and stopped when he saw me. We watched each other for a while in silence, even as everyone else was rejoicing over the money. Finally, he spoke, "Rae, can I speak to you in private?" I nodded, feeling Prosper's nervous gaze on my back, and followed Scipio into the other room. He closed the door and faced me, though not exactly looking at me.

"Look…" he murmured, his cheeks flushing—I have to say—cutely. "About this morning…You were right, I don't know what I was thinking, I'm never going to be able to forgive myself, and you're not going to forgive me, but I just wanted to tell you that I'm really, really--"

He never finished that sentence.


	7. Romance

He stopped, took a deep breath, and began again. "What I mean to say, is..." Here, he began to fumble for words.

Ha! I got you there! You must've thought that I'd kissed him or something! Well... No such luck.

Scipio suddenly looked up at me, his face frustrated, fists clenched. "Damn it, Rae!" he exclaimed. "I'm sorry; I was stupid, I just really like you and I couldn't think, and then--"

I blinked._ What_ did he just say?

"Rae?" I blinked as Scipio called my name quietly. He had stepped closer, and I could feel his body heat against my clothes. I blushed.

"What did you say in that rant?" I asked him, my heart hammering in my chest. My voice was shaking.

"That I was sorry, stupid, I couldn't think," he began listing things off...

_Did I just imagine it, then?_

"Scipio," I said, feeling strangely light-headed. "Stop... It was the thing after 'I was stupid' and before 'I couldn't think.'" His face turned red and he didn't meet my eyes. SO I DIDN'T IMAGINE IT! I felt like I could lift right off the floor! I summed up what courage I had. "Scipio," I began, shifting a bit closer."I really--"

"You _guys;_ hurry up in there!" It was Mosca.

I lost all my confidence and couldn't continue, stepping away and looking anywhere but at Scipio. He opened the door quickly. "What?" he asked, annoyed.

"We've got everything set up for dinner...if you want it," Mosca answered hesitantly.

"Sounds great!" I said quickly and walked past Scipio and out into the main room, sitting down on one end of the table. Prop raised his eyebrows at me, and I looked away. Just then, Scipio and Mosca came back and The Thief Lord sat down at the head of the table--on the complete other end of the universe. Thank _God._

We ate dinner, and the others began to chatter as usual. Finally, the tense feeling between Scipio and I dissolved, and we began to join in on the conversations around us. I tried not to look at Scipio too much, and I could tell that he was trying not to look at me... Sometimes, though, I'd catch him looking, or the other way around; we'd both turn red and go silent.

Hornet and Prosper were whispering from their side of the table, but they seemed the only two who were aware of what was going on between the Thief Lord and I. They kept it to themselves, thankfully, except for one or two of Hornet's giggles.

As dinner finished, Scipio was leaning on his elbow, chin in his palm. His dark eyes studiously examined my face, and I tried to ignore him—eventually, though, I admitted defeat and watched him. My eyes devoured his thin, bruised frame, and followed his elegant hand as he picked up an olive and popped it into his mouth. He smiled at me then, and I turned scarlet, breaking my gaze away and sitting on my hands. I squirmed; my stomach was tight, and there was an uncomfortable feeling in my gut.

What was going _on_ with me?

* * *

Three hours later found me in my room, reading by candlelight. Everyone else was downstairs, winding down and talking quietly amongst themselves. Everything in the room was silent; I had relaxed since the tense events before and during dinner, managing to slip away up to my box with the excuse that I wanted to read. But even now, I hadn't turned the page I'd opened to, and it had been _ages_ since I opened it.

Suddenly, there was a knock on my door.

My heart leaped to my throat and I froze, gut twisting into knots just at the thought of who it might be—no, who I _knew_ it to be.

_If I'm quiet, maybe he'll go away…_

No! I shouted at myself. I'm not a coward!

I closed my book (maybe a _little _too forcefully) and stood, walking over to the door on legs of Jell-O. When I opened it, no one was there. Relieved, I opened it wider and peered out down the hall, just in case.

What would you know; Scipio was walking away slowly, scuffing his feet. His hands were in his pockets, head down, shoulders slumped. For all the world he could have been a lost puppy. Again. I sighed. "Come in, Scipio," I called quietly.

He stopped, turned half-way to display the mostly-intact side of his face, and smiled at me slyly. "Knew you'd cave," he said roguishly.

I glared at him and held the door open wider. "Are you coming in or not?" He shrugged and pushed past me, pausing to examine the cover of the book I'd been reading. It was a copy of _Twilight_ that Hornet had found on the ground. "What did you want?" I asked him as I sat down, throwing the book onto my bed.

He put his hands back in his pockets and sighed. "I...don't know if I should go back." A frown graced his brow, and he looked away again. The lost boy that he truly was had emerged again, all traces of the Thief Lord absent from his voice, eyes, and stature. I bit my lip and looked at my hands. Seeing I wasn't going to answer anytime soon, he continued, distressed. "I-I hate my dad, but I want him to realize how much he hurts me—I want him to open his and see that he's not being a _father_, see what he's _doing_ to me!"

My hands twisted together anxiously and I looked up again. Our gazes locked; a pair of dark, frantic orbs met a lost, agonized gaze. He sank to the floor before me; even on his knees, on the floor, he was as tall as me (though I _was_ sitting…still!). I squirmed, pressing my knees together, mouth suddenly dry as a desert.

"You love him," I whispered, eyes widening. I suddenly knew what was going on. "You just want him to love you back."

His eyes watered, and in that moment I knew that my words had a double meaning. I leaned forward and touched his bruised cheek, brushing a lock of hair away from his eyes. His skin was warm and damp. "I didn't think you understood," he whispered, voice tight. His eyes closed. "How do you know what this feels like?"

I tensed. _Great way to blow your cover, Rae,_ I thought to myself angrily. There were two truths here, though. I couldn't tell him one—that would _truly_ blow everything—but I could tell him one… If I had the courage to, that is. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes; I didn't notice him open his eyes and lean forward. "Scipio, I… I—"

Now it was my turn not to finish my sentence.

I know what you're thinking. _"Oh, she's just tricking us again. She just started stuttering or something!"_

You're wrong.

Scipio stopped me by pressing his lips to mine. I was taken by surprise, eyes snapping open and locking onto his bruised face. For a few moments I found myself frozen, pressed into the back of my chair by a pair of thin, strong arms. When I didn't respond, he pulled away, the beginnings of a blush blossoming on his pale cheeks. His eyes searched mine—and then widened as I caught his lips in mine.

Our arms slid around each other, my fingers tangle in his hair. I admit—I fell off of my chair and landed in his lap, straddling him and pushing him into the floor. Thought it might sound a bit much for a first kiss, it was extremely sweet and hesitant. When we finally pulled away, we were silent. We didn't look at each other, instead choosing to lie in each other's embrace and try to discern our tumbling, colliding thoughts.

A little while later, Scipio decided to go home and left. Everyone had long since gone to bed, and I couldn't seem to go to sleep--I had felt wide awake after Scipio had kissed me. Eventually even Shasta had fallen asleep, snoring contentedly on my bed.

Finally, I decided to move the story along: I would go steal something, and then tomorrow we'd sell it to Barbarossa and get the Conte's Job. Only...who would I steal from? The only places I knew were the Conte's Island, Scipio's house, Ida's house and--I bit my lip. The only other place I knew was Victor's place, but he didn't have anything, and it wouldn't be worth it. Maybe I could tell Scipio to gather some things from his house, give them to me, and then I could hide them until tomorrow and when he got here I could give them to him to show to the gang?

After some deep thinking, I decided it was either that, or raid Ida's house. And I'd rather talk to Scipio than face Ida and her gun again. So I pulled on my black coat, my shoes, and my hat, and then slid out of my room, leaving the door open. If Shasta decided to follow me he'd be able to get out--and then he could warn me to any danger. But that was only if he woke up.

I made my way outside, and then began the walk to Scipio's house, taking my time so as to make sure that when I got there everyone would be asleep. I dragged the walk out as long as I could, but after what seemed like only a heartbeat I was standing in front of the wall I had climbed over just the other night. I managed to get up, and then made my way to Scipio's balcony (thankfully avoiding another near-fall).

All the lights in the house were out--including Scipio's--but I could make out a small, soft, flickering glow through the window and curtains of his balcony. I quietly put a hand on the handle of one of the balcony doors, attempting to open it without making a sound. It was unlocked and opened silently; Scipio must've kept it quiet so he could sneak out without waking anyone.

The cool night breeze flew inside, causing the white, translucent curtains to billow inside. I opened the door a bit wider and slipped inside, my shoes making quiet pats on the wood floor. I turned my head to see if Scipio was in here, and saw him lying in his bed on his side, facing me. He was fast asleep.

A candle sat on the little drawer next to the bed, casting its comforting light on the bed and its occupant. His face was blank and peaceful as his mind drifted through dreamland. I suddenly didn't want to wake him; let him have one night's peace, you know? And yet I had to keep this story moving, or else this would end up being the only peaceful sleep he ever had! Oh, choices, choices!

I quietly walked over to his bed and pushed my hair behind me so that he'd see my face, and not be too freaked out. I had just touched his bare shoulder when his eyes shot open, body tensing.

"Shh," I whispered, putting a finger to my lips.

"What are you doing here, again?" he murmured in a demanding voice, sitting up.

_Oh _shit_,_ I thought to myself immediately. He wasn't wearing a shirt, and while he had an _extremely _nice looking body, he also had many scars and half-healed cuts and bruises. "Erm..." I swallowed hard, ripping my eyes away from his chest to look into his eyes. "I wanted to ask you to steal some things from here and then give them to me--I'll take them back home and hide it till you come next (try to come tomorrow, please) and then I'll let you show it off...You don't want to lose your hold as leader and provider," I explained quietly. "And I want to intimidate Barbarossa again," I added with a woflish grin. He raised an eyebrow at me, obviously not completely believing me. "Look, can you just do it please?" I pleaded.

For a moment I thought he'd say no, but then he sighed. He threw the sheets back and my eyes snapped to his full body. He saw my stare and chuckled—inciting a scarlet blush from me. _Thank God he's wearing sweat pants,_ I thought vaguely. "Just wait here, and be quiet," he murmured in my ear and then slipped out the door into the hall, closing it silently behind him.

I sat down on the bed and looked around the room dazedly, noticing things I hadn't the first time--like a small, framed photo on Scipio's bed stand, right where he could stare at it if he lay on his side like he had been. It was of a slightly younger and very handsome Dottore, a very young Scipio (he was maybe four or five years old), and a beautiful woman, who had Scipio's smile. They all looked _so_ _happy_ together.

There was a thin, almost unnoticeable tear down the center between the woman and the Dottore, angling slightly so that Scipio was on the woman's side. The glass in the frame also looked like it had been shattered at one point. I imagined that maybe, in a fit of sorrowful rage, Scipio had thrown the picture at a wall or something, angry at his father for being like he was, and angry at his mother (the woman) for leaving him with him. The tear was probably his way of showing that he wished his mother had taken him with her...wherever she'd gone.

As I pondered this, I heard soft footsteps and then the faint sound of the door opening. I looked around to see Scipio walking inside with a lumpy, oddly shaped bag. "Here--these should get a good amount of money," he whispered, tying the bag's ends and handing it to me. I took it and then looked back at the picture questioningly.

"That's my mom," Scipio said quietly, his voice so soft and sad that I had to strain my ears to hear it. "She and my father are 'separated'; they should be getting a divorce any time now." There was a biter edge to his voice, and he sat down heavily. I couldn't see his face clearly; his eyes seemed to be made completely of glittering, stony onyx. I put an arm around his bare shoulder and tried to reach around to circle my arms around him—his shoulders were too broad, though, and I couldn't reach completely.

Stupid small-ness.

My cool hand rested over his heart, feeling his lean chest under my touch. It rose and fell reassuringly, and I sighed. He rest his cheek on my head. "She said she loved me," he whispered in a voice so quiet and warm that it summoned tears to my throat; but then a bitter smile twisted his lips and he made a soft noise in his throat, as if laughing at himself. "That was a long time ago." He sighed again. "At least she _said_ it. Father's never said anything truly kind to me. I mean, there are a few times when he was, uh, _'approving',_ but it wasn't…it wasn't from his heart. It wasn't fatherly."

My grip on him tightened. "Scipio, you need to stop worrying about what he thinks. I could calculate the odds of him ever changing, but for one thing I think you already know how slim a chance that is. Secondly…"

"What?"

"…I can't remember how to calculate odds." He laughed softly; I could _feel_ the sound coming up from his chest. He was smiling, _and _laughing. Good! "Now, promise me you won't send him over the edge again. Or do anything at all that he'll harm you for."

He fell back onto the bed, pulling me with him, and then he lifted me up and set me down again so I was straddling his waist. I blushed. "Come on, promise!" I said stubbornly, all too aware of my hands on his thin, scarred stomach.

"I promise," he said solemnly, and reached up to pull me against him. His lips found mine, and once again I melted into him.

Finally, he pulled away and sighed. "You should be getting back. You need to sleep."

On cue, I yawned, clamping a hand over my tingling lips to keep quiet. I nodded and rolled off of him, standing. He followed, placing a hand on the small of my back and guiding me to the balcony door. "G'night, Scip," I murmured as he closed the door.

I saw him open the curtain enough to watch me as I made my way down the wall (thankfully, I didn't fall this time). I disappeared from his view, and walked home in a happy mood. It had been a good evening, don't you think? I hadn't had any near-death incidents, nor had Scipio, and everyone was happy. All this added up to the conclusion of a good day.

When I got back to my box Shasta was still asleep, but one of his ears swiveled in my direction as I closed the door behind me. Then he rolled over enough for me to slip in-between the sheets once I had changed. I snuggled close to his warm body and closed my eyes, a goofy smile on my face. This would be a good rest; filled with wonderful dreams. I could just tell.

Sure enough, as I slipped into dreamland I could still see a pair of soft, dark chocolate eyes, glinting in the moonlight...


	8. Save Us

The next day I woke up to Shasta licking my face.

"Urgh!"

I spluttered, pushing him away and trying to wipe my face. "Dog spit in my mouth!" I tried to wipe my tongue on my sleeve. He grinned at me, his tongue hanging out of his mouth and his ears pricked. I sighed, knowing that look. "Let me get dressed," I said. "Then I'll get you something to eat."

A few minutes later we went downstairs to find everyone awake, eating breakfast that someone had bought. I went over to the stage which was where we had put the bag of dog food we had bought for Shasta, along with his bowl. I got him his breakfast and then went to go have mine. "Morning, Rae!" Everyone chorused.

I grinned. "G'morning everyone," I replied, silently vowing that it would be a very good morning indeed.

* * *

I had gone up to my room to get my book and was just turning around to go to the door when Scipio walked in. I blushed, and he smiled. "Morning, Scipio," I mumbled shyly and busied myself with picking up the sack of loot.

"Morning, Rae," he replied, plucking the bag from my hands and offering me his arm. I raised an eyebrow at his 'courtesy', but hooked elbows with him anyway. Then he laced his fingers through mine, and we walked downstairs. Hornet and Prosper shot looks at each other and grinned at us when they saw us arm in arm/hand in hand. I glared at both of them—mostly at Prosper, since he was making kissy faces at us.

Mosca and Riccio looked up from whatever they were doing and stared at us. Their mouths hung open in surprise. Scipio was grinning as he dumped the bag of loot onto the stage, and then took off his mask. "Did you see the looks on their faces?" I asked him, laughing at Mosca and Riccio as I sat on the edge of the stage. I was only _just_ level with Scipio's head…

"Yeah, they looked like deer in the headlights," he answered, chuckling.

"Scip!"

Scipio nearly jumped out of his skin when Bo suddenly appeared in front of him, grinning insanely. "Oh, hi, Bo," Scipio said, his voice a bit breathless from his startled jump. We laughed at him.

"Did you see that!" Hornet cackled.

"That was a pirouette!" Prosper gasped.

Bo didn't see why we were laughing, but he joined in anyway. Scipio was turning a bit red, and I probably was too, but for a different reason. I tried to catch my breath and I leaned against Scipio's shoulder, holding back laughter. I giggled slightly and he glared at me. "I thought you were on my side," he muttered in mock anger.

I grinned and kissed his cheek. "I am, but that was so _funny_!" I burst out laughing again, unable to hold myself up and relying on Scipio to not move—if he did I'd fall to the floor and die laughing.

Bo blinked at us, a strange look on his face. Once everyone (including me) had calmed down, he opened his mouth to speak. "Scip, Rae, are you two getting married?" He asked.

**

* * *

Scipio's POV**

I was too shocked to say anything, and I could tell that everyone else was too. Hornet giggled slightly after a moment, but then the room was filled with silence again. I glanced at Rae to see her mouth was slightly open as she tried to find an answer. Her astonishment was quite obvious—and quite adorable. "W-well, Bo," she said finally, her voice a bit nervous. "We're a bit too young for that…"

He cocked his head to the side, giving us that strange, curious look again. "But then how come you're holding hands and you kissed him?" he asked, frowning slightly as he pondered it over.

Rae's face turned red and she loosened her fingers around mine for a fraction of a second, as though debating whether or not to keep holding hands with me. I tightened my grip, and a hint of a smile danced on her beautiful face. "Well, uh…" She looked at me sheepishly, her expression clearly stating, _'Say something!'_

"Er, Bo," I started, trying to put something together. How do you explain to a six year—six and a quarter year old about 'dating', or whatever we were doing? I looked at Prosper for guidance, only to see him watching us nervously, as though trying to find an answer himself.

"Scipio and Rae really like each other," Hornet said for us, as though it was easy. "Like the prince and the princess in the book I read you the other night. But they're not ready to get married yet—they've got to get to know each other more, so that they're sure that they're perfect for each other."

Bo's eyes widened, and he grinned at us. "I see now!" he exclaimed, bobbing up and down excitedly. "I think you two are perfect for each other!"

_Great, a six and a quarter year old matchmaker…_

Rae sighed and she looked at me, slightly amused. I smiled wearily at her.

"Come on, Bo," Prosper said, coming to our rescue before his brother could say anything else that would get us fumbling for words. "Let's go find your kittens."

Bo skipped off with Prop to find said kittens, and everyone in the room let out a breath they had been holding. "Who knew that he could come up with a question that was so hard to answer?" Rae asked Hornet.

Hornet grinned, and then got a devilish look on her face as she looked at me. "So, Scipio, _are_ you and Rae going to get married?" she asked.

I sighed and shook my head. "Hornet, does it look like that?" I asked tartly. "Of course not." As I turned around to the stage to put the loot back in the sack I caught a glimpse of Rae's face—she was frowning to herself, a look of slight disappointment in her eyes.

It was gone when I turned back to look at her.

"Let's get Prosper," she said, untangling her fingers from mine and hopping down from the stage. "We'll go sell this to the Redbeard." She walked off without saying another word, and Hornet followed behind her. I watched after them, until they disappeared into another room.

Mosca and Riccio were still gawking at me, but I ignored them, eyes still on the spot Rae had just vacated. I had an uneasy feeling, as if I'd done something stupid.

_Did I say something wrong?_

**

* * *

Rae**

"I saw that look on your face," Hornet said quietly to me. "You want your happily ever after."

I rolled my eyes. "Doesn't everyone?" I asked as I looked through a door, checking to see if Prosper was there. "And anyway, we're way too young to even _think_ about that sort of things," I added.

She shook her head, sending her long braid swinging. "Just wait—soon you'll be doodling hearts with his name in them, and writing sappy poetry. Seriously, Rae. Do you really believe that?"

"Maybe." I rolled my eyes and spotted Prosper down the hall. "Yo, Prop," I called. "We're going to Barbarossa's again!"

* * *

**3rd PPOV**

Once again Rae and Prosper were inside the Redbeard's office, and Prosper and he were having a staring match. Prosper had his mask of marble on, and Rae could tell that Barbarossa was about to crack any moment now… Just to help him along, Rae began flipping her dagger. That made his stony façade crumble. "Fine, I'll give you four hundred thousand lire," he grumbled, pouting as he handed Prosper the money. As Rae began to check and double check the money, Barbarossa cleared his throat. "One more thing…" Rae's eyes snapped up to his face, knowing what would come next.

"Ask the Thief Lord if he would take on a job."

Prop blinked. "A job?" he questioned.

Rae shot Prop a glare. "Explain," she said calmly to Barbarossa.

"One of my most important clients is looking for a talented man who will—let's say—fetch something for him. Something my client wants rather badly. As far as I have gathered, the item is here, in Venice. Should be child's play for someone—" Barbarossa twisted his face into a scornful smile "—who likes to call himself the Thief Lord, shouldn't it?"

Rae's jaw clenched. "We'll see what he says," she answered, trying not to show that his comment had irked her, and snatched up the bag.

"Excellent," Barbarossa said, leaning back in his chair with a smug smile. "If he wants to take on the job, tell him to send one of you with his answer. I will then arrange a meeting with my client." He lowered his voice. "The payment will be very generous. My client has assured me of that."

Rae snatched her dagger by the hilt and sheathed it with a sound of clashing metal. "Adios," she muttered and kicked Prop in the shins with the flat of her foot (the top part where the tongue of the shoe goes), herding him out the door.

"Let me know as soon as possible about that job!" Barbarossa shouted after them.

"Of course," Rae answered and then kept walking. _This is it, Rae,_ she thought to herself. _You can either not tell him and change the story so you won't have any clue what to do, or keep going and risk Prop and Bo being found, Hornet taken to the orphanage, and Scipio riding the merry-go-round…_ She bit her lip, stopping for a moment, pretending to tie her shoe as she thought. It was a hard decision; either way she might lose control of the story…and she didn't know what she'd do then.

"Rae…are we going to tell Scipio about this job?" Prosper asked.

Rae looked up at him as she stood. "I'm thinking; I'm not sure," she answered quietly. He nodded understandingly and they continued walking, and what happened next made Rae make up her mind.

Prosper walked around two women who were arguing noisily in the middle of the street—only to walk straight into a man who had just walked out of a bar with a slice of pizza in his hand. The man was small and stocky. A piece of cheese clung to his thick walrus mustache. He spun around angrily—and then stared at Prosper as if he had seen a ghost.

Prosper muttered, _"Scusi_," and quickly pushed past the man and disappeared into the crowd. Rae pushed past the man, too, making sure to swing her long hair into his eyes. He cursed and stumbled.

Rae pulled Prosper into a doorway, trying to keep out of sight. "That's Victor Getz—a detective," Rae murmured. "Scip and I tailed him the other day. He's working for your Aunt: looking for you and Bo." She saw that the coast was clear and dragged him into an alley so narrow Barbarossa would certainly have gotten stuck in it. The wind whistled past them. Prosper knew where this tiny passage led: into a labyrinth of alleys that could, and would confuse even a Venetian. It wasn't a bad route if you wanted to lose someone.

But Rae had stopped and flattened herself against the wall, watching the people passing by. "If he sees us," Rae whispered to Prosper, "run."

The schoolchildren skipped past, and then the nuns walked by…then came the short, stocky man with big feet and the mustache. He looked around, stood on his toes, craned his neck—and then cursed. Rae and Prosper hardly dared to breath. Finally, the man walked off.

"Let's get away before he comes back," Rae whispered, and then dragged him off deeper into the alleys. Just like before, Rae had a map in her mind that led her through the maze of alleys and bridges. They suddenly stumbled back into sunlight.

"Come on," Rae said. In front of them was the crowded Grand Canal. She dragged Prop toward a _vaporetto_ stop. Soon they had vanished into the crowd of people waiting for the next boat. "Watch for him," Rae said to Prosper, studying everyone around her, but she knew Victor wasn't there. When the next _vaporetto _finally arrived, the two smuggled themselves onto the boat with the crowd. While everyone else scrambled into free seats, Prosper and Rae walked up to the deck rail and scanned the crowd on the bank of the canal. "There he is," Rae muttered, and pointed.

Prosper saw him clearly—there was the walrus mustache, squinting after the departing boat. Rae stuck her tongue out at him. Prosper bit his lip. The detective had long vanished out of sight, but Prop kept staring toward the bank in case he suddenly appeared… He was obviously worried.

"Stop it," Rae said, pulling him away from the side of the boat. "You're making _me_ nervous."

"Who was he again?" Prosper asked. Rae sighed and nodded.

"He's a detective who works for tourists: looks for lost handbags, wallets and such. He nearly caught Riccio once. But he's not very fast." Rae shook her head. "He's looking for you and Bo for your aunt… Let's get off here," she said. They jumped off the boat while the new passengers were already pushing aboard. Rae tried to lighten the mood by saying what Riccio had said in the book. "The others probably think we've taken the money and split!" Prosper looked at her, his face emotionless. "Our little boat trip hasn't made the way back any shorter, either."

"Rae…how did you know about my aunt?"

Rae's mind worked quickly. "I did some snooping about the snoop," she answered without hesitation. "And I found out."

Prosper nodded, but something in him was telling him she wasn't telling the truth. He bent down and picked up a plastic fan from a doorstep. The handle was missing, but Bo wouldn't mind that. "Bo thinks I can take care of everything," he said, stuffing his find into his pocket. "But if Hornet hadn't found us…"

Rae stuffed her hands in her pockets and elbowed him. "Stop it," she said darkly. "I won't let anything happen to you or Bo—I'll do everything I can to keep you two safe."

He looked up at her. "I think I could take care of myself—it's Bo I'm worried about," he said. "Sometimes he's so annoying--but then I can't bring myself to punishing him. He's all I have left. You know?"

Rae smiled at him slightly. _Yes, I know exactly. _She had not one, but _two_ little sisters—fraternal, nine year old twins. Although they looked nothing alike, they were identical trouble makers, and loved to make Rae's life miserable.

But she'd do anything to see them again.

"Prop, don't worry about the snoop—remember, you have my word that no harm will ever come to you or Bo." _No harm,_ she thought grimly. _But if Bo gets taken by Esther for a little while I won't be breaking my word._

"Rae…do you ever wish you were grown-up?"

"Truthfully—sometimes. I could have a home; have no one to boss me around… I could have a car, do things I wanted to do for a living… I would be independent, and I've always wanted to be… I could have children, and share with them everything wonderful in the world, and learn from them as much as they'd learn from me."

She jumped from a bridge onto a street.

"But then again…There would be the hard times, of course, the ups and downs…and then I'd eventually be unable to do anything that I can do now." To alliterate, she did a cartwheel, dropped into a forward roll, and then jumped up again without breaking the momentum. "So it all depends on when you ask me. Right now though…I'm just fine with letting nature take its time."

He nodded and caught up to her. "Don't tell Bo about the detective, OK?"

"Of course, mon ami," Rae answered.


	9. Hurt

When Rae and Prosper finally got back to the Stella, Bo immediately tackled them in greeting. Neither of the two older kids said a word about the detective who had caused them to be gone so long. Hornet had begun to ask why they had been so late in returning, but then Rae had pulled out the money they had gotten and Hornet forgot about her question completely. Rae handed it to Prosper and then inquired about where Scipio was.

Apparently he had disappeared around lunchtime, leaving a note saying that he'd be back later in the evening. Bo dragged Rae into a game of Hide-and-Seek, and it was a bit harder than usual because Shasta kept finding the person hiding and tackled them to try and lick their face—causing them to splutter and giggle, and be found easily.

About two hours late, the bell rang and the Thief Lord was at the front door. For once, he had arrived before midnight. Rae opened the door without asking for the password, and therefore got into an argument with Scipio—her excuse was that no one had ever _told_ her the password so how could she be expected to ask for it? Neither of them were actually mad at each other, but the argument was beginning to get a bit heated. Bo came up just in time, running excitedly toward Scipio with the wad of Barbarossa's money in hand. When Prosper told him how much there was, Scipio's jaw _dropped._ He took the money and counted every single note, his eyes wide.

"Well," Rae said, grinning at his expression. "What do you say to that?"

"Now you can tell Hornet to buy me some paint for my boat!" Mosca said.

"Your boat? Sure, sure…of course." Scipio nodded absently, before turning to Rae and Prosper. "Was there anything Barbarossa liked especially?" he asked.

Prosper shrugged, but Rae cut him off before he could say anything. "He liked the sugar tongs," she said. "He fondled over those like a child with a doll."

Scipio frowned. "Yes…they were probably quite valuable," he murmured. Suddenly he shook his head as if he wanted to get rid of a troublesome thought. "Riccio," he said, "go and buy some olives and sausage. We've got to celebrate—I haven't much time, so hurry."

Riccio quickly stuffed two of Barbarossa's bills into his pocket and dashed off. When he came back with a plastic bag full of olives, bread, salami, and a bag of _mandolati_ (the chocolates wrapped in colorful paper that Scipio liked so much) the others were already sprawled on blankets and pillows in front of the curtain. Rae, Bo and Hornet had gathered all the candles they could find and the flickering light filled the theater with dancing shadows and a warm glow.

"Here's to a few carefree months!" Hornet said once they had all served themselves. She poured grape juice into the goblets Scipio had brought back on one of the raids.

Rae raised her glass to Prosper. "Here's to you, because you got the Redbeard to part with all that dough!"

Riccio and Mosca raised their glasses too. Prosper didn't know where to look. Bo, however, leaned proudly against his big brother and put one of the kittens on his knee.

"Yes, here's to you, Prop!" Scipio said, also raising his glass. "I name you my chief loot-seller. However…" He toyed with the wad of money with his long fingers. "I'm thinking it might be wise to take a break after a raid like this." For a moment he fell silent, rolling onto his back and relaxing, his eyes closed. "A thief should never become too greedy—or else he'll be caught," he said.

"But there's one more thing you've got to do before you take a break," Rae said. "Barbarossa told us something…interesting today."

"And what was that?" Scipio asked, popping an olive into his mouth.

"A customer of his is looking for a thief," she explained, looking up at the ceiling. "The deal is 'very good' and we're supposed to ask you if you'd be interested." She glanced back at him. Scipio gave Rae a surprised, slightly concerned look, and she knew why he was worried. He didn't know how to actually steal. "Sounds good, doesn't it?"

Riccio stuffed a slice of the sausage into his mouth. Its spiciness made him choke and his eyes stream. He quickly handed his empty glass to Hornet, amid amused giggles from the rest of the gang.

**

* * *

Rae's POV  
**

Scipio still hadn't answered, and I finally had to say something. "If you don't take it _I _will," I said calmly, and tugged on his ponytail, grinning slyly. "I bet you're too chicken to take it, anyway." I looked at the others as Scip looked at me, his eyes narrowing. "What do you say guys? Should I take it?" I asked jokingly.

"Too late, _I_ am taking it," he said, sitting up and glaring at me. I raised an eyebrow at him. "Why not?" he challenged. "What will I have to steal?"

"No idea," I lied, settling back down. "Not even Barbarossa knows anything." I grinned. "They probably think you're some tall, thin, shady character who creeps around pillars of the Doge's Palace like a cat; or maybe sits in the rafters of the Cathedral." I laughed. "If only, if only… He wants a quick answer, by the way."

Everyone looked at Scipio. He sat there, his eyes hard as he stared into mine. It was so quiet that you could hear the crackle of the candles. "Again…why not?" he asked. "Take my answer to Barbarossa tomorrow morning," he said to me. "Riccio, you go with her, to make sure she doesn't take it on herself."

Prosper was watching us with a undecided look on his face, as though he still had a feeling that nothing good could come of this. I had that feeling too, but I knew what I was doing. Sort of. Scipio shifted his stare to Prosper. "What do you think of all this, Prop?" he asked.

"Not much," Prosper answered after a moment. "I don't trust Barbarossa." He shot me a glance, and I knew that it said, _'If Bo gets caught up in this I'm blaming you.'_

Great, Prop…make a girl's life harder, will you?

Scipio nodded.

Just then, Bo, of all people, let Prosper down. "So what?" he said. He knelt next to Scipio, his eyes shiny with excitement. "It'll be easy for you, won't it? Right, Scip?" I could see the hurt, betrayed, slightly angry look on his brother's face. I knew exactly how he must feel. A smile tugged on Scipio's face. He took the kitten out of Bo's arms and placed it on his lap, stroking its tiny ears. "And I will help you!" Bo moved even closer to Scipio. "Right, Scip? I'll come with you."

_Oh great._

"BO!" Prosper shouted, jumping up. "Stop talking such complete nonsense! You're not going anywhere, is that clear? And you're definitely not going to do anything dangerous." He whipped around to me, his face furious. _This is all your fault,_ his bright eyes shouted at me. The look on his face said everything. I don't think I've ever felt worse in my life than I did under that boy's gaze.

Bo's eyes were shining with tears—the first time I had ever seen him this upset. Prosper glared at Scipio, Bo and I steadily before turning and stomping off to his mattress in the other room. Bo's sniffle broke the following silence, and then we all saw his blond head streaking out of the room, the sound of sobbing reaching our ears, moving farther and farther away inside the Stella.

I stood after an eternity of silence, and then ran off in search of Bo.

I found Bo sobbing into Shasta's fur, in an old, abandoned janitor's closet. I had been walking down a hall, when I heard small, quiet sobs from behind a door. When I opened it, I saw Bo and Shasta curled up, with the other of the kittens Scipio had brought Bo.

"Bo?" I asked softly, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Go away!"

* * *

"I agree with Prosper," Hornet said, breaking the silence. "There's no reason to take any more risks. We've got enough money for now."

Scipio examined his mask and poked a finger into one of the hollow eyes. "I _will_ take the job," he said.

Riccio's scrawny face beamed all over. "And this time you'll take us along, won't you?" he asked. "Please! I'd love to see a big, fine house from the inside—just _once_."

"Yes, I'd like that too…" Mosca gazed dreamily up at the curtain, which was glittering in the candlelight as if it were covered in golden spider's threads. "I'd often wondered what it must be like. I've heard that in some of the houses the floors are paved with gold and that they have real diamonds on the doorknobs."

"Well, go to the Scuola di San Rocco if you want to see things like that!" Hornet gave the boys an angry look. "Scipio just said himself; he should take a break for a while. After all, they're probably still looking for the man who broke into the Palazzo Contarini. Another break in would be madness right now. Just stupid!" She turned to Scipio. "If Barbarossa knew that the Thief Lord hasn't got a single hair on his chin and doesn't reach up to his pudgy nose, _even_ in a pair of high-heeled boots, he would have never asked him anyway!"

"Oh yeah?" Scipio drew himself up, his face stony and his dark eyes blazing. "Did you know that Alexander the Great was smaller than me? He had to push a table in front of the Persian throne so he could climb on to it! I've made my decision. Tell Barbarossa that the Thief Lord will take the job. I have to go now, but I will be back tomorrow." He stood and started to leave, but Hornet blocked his way.

"Now listen," she said quietly. "Maybe you're a better thief than all the grown-up thieves in the city, but when Barbarossa sees you in your high heels with all your grown-up playacting, he'll just laugh at you. Hear that? _He. Will. _Laugh_._"

The others looked at Scipio in embarrassment. Never had anyone ever dared to talk to him like that.

Scipio stood completely still and ramrod straight. Then his mouth twisted into an arrogant sneer. "Well, the Redbeard is not going to see me!" He said, pulling the mask over his face. "And should he ever dare to laugh at me then I'll just look into his moon face and laugh right back at him, twice as loud. He is just a fat, old man. I am the Thief Lord." With a sudden spin he walked around Hornet. "I'll be quite late tomorrow… Tell Rae she better hurry up with that idea of hers," he called over his shoulder.

Then he was swallowed by the shadows.

* * *

**Rae's POV**

"Bo, Prosper just wants to keep you safe," I tried to get him to understand why his brother was so aggressive about Bo not joining in on raids. "What would you do if you were in his shoes?"

"I'd let me have fun!" Bo said stubbornly, his tears stopped but face still wet. I sighed; he was acting just like my little sisters…

"Look…Bo…You've got to understand…Prosper would _die_ if anything bad happened to you. We'd have to chain him up and nail him to the floor to keep him from throwing himself off a roof or into the canal. Maybe, one day, he'll loosen up, but you've got to face it; you're just not old enough to go out on your own."

He sighed, rubbing his eyes sleepily. "I guess you're right, Rae," he yawned. "Can you read me a bedtime story?"

I smiled and picked him up, shooing Shasta with my foot. "Sure, Bo. Let's get you into your pajamas, and then I'll read you a bedtime story."

* * *

The next morning, Riccio and I went to Barbarossa to give him the Thief Lord's answer, just like Scipio had told us.

"He accepts? Good, that will please my customer," the red-beard said with a self-satisfied smile. "But you will have to be patient. It won't be easy to get a message to him. He hasn't even got a telephone."

For the next two days Riccio returned to Barbarossa's shop in vain, and while he was gone, I was trying to find Scipio. I had gone to his house many times, and I had waited through rain that hit against my skin like icy bullets, just standing outside on his balcony. I tried knocking on the glass; I tried picking the lock and looking inside…

He was never there.

Alright, I admit it; I was a bit harsh with the teasing. Sometimes I get carried away, alright? It's a habit I got from school—people tease me, I tease them. And win. It's a bad habit, and I had been doing better on it, but sometimes I just tease a bit and then I'm actually hurting them. And then I feel really, really bad. I wanted to apologize to Scip so badly...but he never gave me a chance. I could just tell that he was avoiding me.

As I stood outside his balcony again, my black-coated shoulders hunched up like an old raven sitting on a telephone wire back home, I was getting a bit angry. So he wanted to sulk, did he? Well then, the next time I saw him I'd give him a real reason to sulk!

My shoulders slumped and I leaned against the cold glass, resting my cheek on it. No, I couldn't do that…

"Scip," I said knowing he would be able to hear me through the glass if he was actually in there—which I doubted. "I'm sorry, alright? I shouldn't have teased you so much—I'm sorry…" I sniffled. I had been getting a runny nose lately, as it was getting deeper into the winter months. "If you want to talk…I'm always ready to listen."

Then I turned and made my way back down to the slick cobblestones below. I could have sworn I heard a muffled sniffle much like mine from the balcony.

* * *

The third day the Redbeard had what we had been waiting for. "My customer wants to meet you in the Basilica, the Basilica San Marco," Barbarossa explained. He was standing in front of the mirror in his office, snipping away at his beard with a tiny pair of scissors. "The Conte likes to be mysterious, but there are never any problems business-wise. He's already sold me some very nice pieces, and always at a fair price. Just don't ask him any nosy questions, understood?" He swapped the scissors for a pair of tweezers.

All through this I had been staring glumly out the window at the rain, and the bedraggled Shasta. I knew that if Scipio was in real danger Shasta could tell me—he always had a way of being a rescue dog. He was currently sitting under the overhang thing outside the shop front, watching the rain fall just like I was. He looked a bit sad.

"The Conte?" Riccio asked, impressed. "Does that mean he's a real count or something?"

"Indeed it does. I just hope the Thief Lord behaves accordingly." Barbarossa looked very self-important before plucking a hair from his nostril. "Once you meet the Conte in person you will see that there can be no doubt as to his distinguished ancestry. To this day he hasn't told me his name but my guess is he's a Valaresso. Some members of this venerable family have not been blessed by fate. There has even been talk of a curse. Anyway." The Redbeard moved a little closer to the mirror and tugged at a particularly stubborn hair. Be that as it may, they are still one of the old families—well, you know, like the Correr, Vendramin, Contarini, Venier, Loredan, Barbarigo, and countless others. They've ruled this city for centuries without anyone of us ever really knowing what was going on. Isn't that right?"

Riccio nodded respectfully, but I just moved my chin up and down a bit, absently, staring into space past the falling rain. Of course Riccio had heard all the names the Redbeard had just so pompously strung out. He knew the palaces and museums that bore their names, but about the people themselves, he knew nothing.

I vaguely remembered that "Valaresso" was the family of Vampires in one of my stories that I was working on…I'd have to finish it someday. If there was a someday.

With sudden intensity I felt a stabbing pain in my heart. I might never get home! I felt my eyes sting and blinked them away quickly—I couldn't let the _Redbeard_, of all people, see me cry. But as they spoke, I couldn't help but debate whether or not I wanted to go back. I was happy here; or relatively happy. Once I got everything worked out I could have a fun, happy life here. Back at home there was only endless teasing and being annoyed by my little sisters, right? Yet in a way I had grown to love that, I had grown immune to the teasing, I had even gotten used to the gross jokes that my friends always liked to tell.

Still, Scipio was here—the first guy who had actually, openly _liked_ me liked me, and the first one to even do anything about those feelings of his. I felt the same way in return, and I'd probably die if I was away from him. Was it love? At this age you couldn't be sure, even if you thought it was the strongest attraction in the world.

I had made better friends here than I could have ever hoped for before—Hornet; shy and gentle at times, but with a tongue just like a Hornet's stinger; Prosper, like a brother to me, sometimes unsure, but ready to do anything for his Bo; Mosca, with his humor and talk of boats that even got me interested; Bo, how could you not like him? Riccio… I wasn't so sure about Riccio. He didn't seem to like me much. But still—I'd miss his hero-worship of Scipio and his pick-pocketing skills.

"So as I said, just address him as Conte and he'll be pleased. The Thief Lord will probably get along fine with him. After all, your leader also likes to shroud himself in mystery. Probably quite a good idea in his line of work, right?"

Riccio nodded once more. He couldn't wait for the fat man to get back to the point so that he could deliver the news to the others. It was obvious from the way he shifted impatiently from one foot to the other. "When? When are we supposed to meet him in the Basilica?" he asked as Barbarossa stepped up to the mirror again—this time to pluck his eyebrows. Ugh.

"Tomorrow afternoon. Three o'clock sharp. The Conte will wait for you in the first confessional on the left. And don't be late: The man is always very punctual."

"Fine," Riccio mumbled. "Three o'clock. Confessional. First left. Three o'clock sharp." He turned to leave.

"Hold on, hold on, Hedgehog!" Barbarossa waved Riccio back once more. "Tell the Thief Lord the Conte wants to meet him in person. He can bring any companions he likes. Apes, elephants, or even his little children. But he has to come in person. The Conte wants to judge for himself before he tells him anything more about the job. After all," his face took on a rather hurt expression, "he hasn't even told me anymore about it."

That really didn't surprise us, but the Conte's condition to meet Scipio made my heart skip a few beats. I had almost forgotten about that. "That, that…" Riccio stammered, "…Sci--"

I cut him off. "Fine. See you," I said, dragging Riccio to the door.

"Have a nice day," Barbarossa called.

"Same to you," Riccio muttered, poking out his tongue at the red-beard's back before turning and leading me off. I grinned at his back.

Just another reason to like Riccio.


	10. Confession

I could see Victor looking at his watch. Then he spotted us.

Of course, he hardly looked at me as he watched all of us. We weren't in the line of following the leader as the gang had been in the movie; it was much too...conspicuous and attention drawing. I mean, a boy in a black coat with a black mask with a nose that could hit somebody in the face a mile away; followed immediately by a little angel without wings, big blue eyes and inky hair (we had died it...or Hornet had), with a hecka tall boy holding his shoulder (we had cut Prosper's hair, but that was it), followed by Hornet with her nose in a book, and then Riccio and Mosca? That was _way_ too obvious.

The crowd moved and hid us from Victor's view, but I walked on my toes, just able to glimpse his stupid hat. I swiftly nudged Hornet in the ribs (I was coming in last, since I still hadn't had time to apologize to Scipio and he was still mad at me apparently), and she ushered everyone forward, making them hurry.

Finally we got the rendezvous. I could tell that Victor was watching--I felt a prickling tenseness in my spine, just like I always did when I was being watched. "Hurry up," I whispered to Bo, pushing him back toward Prosper. "It's almost three!" He was standing in front of the massive portal of the Basilica, looking up at the horses.

"Bo!" Prosper dragged him forward.

"They're angry," Bo said to me with a frown, childish worry in his eyes.

"Yes, someone stole them and brought them here," I said, repeating what he himself had said in the book.

He nodded. "It is a thousand, or even a hundred years ago that they brought them here," Bo said. Prosper pushed his brother past a bride and groom who were having their picture taken in front of the Basilica. As I ducked past them, the bride caught my eye. I couldn't help but stare as I walked away--she had the same eyes, hair, facial structure...everything as me...

It was like she was my long lost, older twin.

I nearly ran into Scipio as he fiddled anxiously with his mask. I felt my face go red and didn't meet his eyes--I wouldn't apologize here in front of everyone. Other than giving me a piercing, icy glare, he ignored me as he turned to the others.

"Listen," he waved the others toward him and lowered his voice. "I don't want to turn up with my entire entourage, so this is how we are going to do it: Prosper and Rae"--he said my name with a bitter edge--"are coming in with me. The others will wait here at the fountain."

I piped. "I saw a detective out here--so be careful." I winked at Bo and then turned.

"But I don't want to wait here!" Bo looked glum, but it was lessened at the idea of keeping a lookout for a detective, ready to warn The Thief Lord if it was dangerous.

"Bo's right!" Riccio muttered, kicking a bit of rock. "Why can't we all go? Why only Prosper and Rae?"

Hornet answered rather kindly, I must say. "Because we have to keep a look-out. What if that detective stumbled across our deal in progress? Then we'd have to get in a fight---and the detectives _always_ make it out. Besides, do you know how cramped the confessionals are? They only fit one adult, and three kids the size of those guys is seriously pushing it."

Scipio looked a bit amazed that she hadn't said anything mean, but then nodded curtly and turned again, down the steps leading away from the fountain. I pushed Prosper, ruffled Bo's hair, and then followed. The Basilica we were walking into was on my list of "Places to go before I bit the dust". Well, most of Italy was, but still...this place was a must. The gilded mosaics of angels, kings and saints captured my mind (alright, I'm more a fan of statues and paintings, but mosaics are cool too). Right now, though, everything was dark--spooky and fun.

Prosper and Scipio walked down the side aisle, their steps ringing out on the flagstone floor. They seemed like church-mice, trying not to be found. I, however, walked reverently down the center aisle, having bowed as I crossed in front of the tabernacle. Hey, it was a habit. It had always been a rule in my family to go to church every single Sunday (Saturday evening if we couldn't make it Sunday), and I had even been in choir and been an Altar Server. I was comfortable here; more so than anywhere else in this story.

Just thinking about home, though, made my heart ache horribly.

I came up with a vague idea--maybe I could pretend I was the Thief Lord, save Scipio some trouble...I could certainly act more like a thief. I was about to ask Scipio about it when he walked through the curtains into the confessional we were looking for. Shoot... Oh well.

I followed quickly. I knelt on the low bench half hidden in the darkness, side by side with Scipio. I could feel his body warmth, and his spidery, cold fingers brushed against mine as I moved them into a prayerful position. I whispered a quiet prayer, hoping that everything would work out.

_Let me get through this--this is for Scipio, Prosper, Bo, Hornet, Riccio, Mosca, Shasta, Victor, and Ida...and everyone else. I want them to have a good life... Forget about me--let me help them. Or...if You wish it...influence my actions otherwise..._

Suddenly someone pulled back the curtains of the small window. I hardly moved as Prosper jumped and Scipio twitched. "One shouldn't wear a mask in a church, any more than a hat." The uneven voice sounded like a very old man.

"One also shouldn't talk about a theft in a confessional," I answered in a quiet voice, "and that is what we are here for, am I right?" I still didn't look up from my hands as I ran through every prayer I knew. I hoped that someone up There would hear.

"So you are the Thief Lord?" The Conte asked quietly. I could hear a slight amused hint in his voice, along with surprise. "I didn't know that thieves prayed to God. Or maybe you're not Christian?"

I looked up, finally done with calming down. I had been dangerously close to hyperventilating. This was exciting, to say the least. "How else would we steal enough to take care of my friends?" I asked. "I was brought up strict Catholic...I don't lose habits quickly." I smirked slightly. "And...I am not the Thief Lord."

I could practically feel Renzo's surprise. I laughed freely. "No, _this_ is the Thief Lord," I said, jerking my head at Scipio and scooting over slightly, just enough so that Scipio could see through the window.

"Well then," the 'Conte' said, pulling back his previous calm, mysterious air, "keep your mask on if you don't want to show your face, but I can still see that you're very young."

Scipio's already white hand clenched into a fist--his knuckles flaring even whiter. "Indeed. And you are very old, I can tell. Does age matter in this transaction? If it does, than I assure you I will hand it over to someone like my accomplice who is just short for her age." I smirked slightly. Scipio most certainly had the body of a child, but he could express himself like an adult ('cept for that sulking, of course), with a confidence that I couldn't help but admire.

"Not in the least," the old man answered. "You must forgive my surprise at your age. I must admit that when Barbarossa told me of the Thief Lord I did not imagine a boy of, say, twelve or thirteen years of age. But I do agree, age is of no consequence in this case. I myself had to work like an adult from the age of eight, although I was small and weak. Nobody cared about that."

"In our line of business a small body may be an advantage, Conte," Scipio replied, "if that is how I should address you."

"You may, yes." The Conte cleared his throat. "As Barbarossa has told you, I am looking for someone who can retrieve something for me...something which I have been trying to find for many years, and which is at the moment in the possession of a stranger." He cleared his throat again. "Since you call yourself the Thief Lord I assume you have already entered some of the noble houses of this city without ever being caught. Am I right?"

"Of course." Scipio's white hand found mine and gave it an urgent, angry squeeze. I took it to mean, _'Hurry up with that idea!'_

_Don't worry, my friend, I'm already on it._

I tuned out of their conversation to start planning. How could I teach him? I could write up some of those really cool spy glasses that have night-vision and a video camera in the lenses, and give a pair to Scipio and one to myself--then I could go on a raid and show him what to do. Make him memorize everything that he needed to be wary of and do...then after I deemed him capable, take him on a raid and have him steal something_... Yeah...that could work._

I realized that Scipio's thumb was rubbing back and forth on the back of my hand. I glanced at him as he answered the Conte slowly, his voice shaky. "Five million," he murmured, "sounds like a fair price." I tuned them out again, feeling little tingles run up my arm, stemming from my hand. Maybe I was forgiven...but then again, maybe it was just for his comfort. I'd still apologize.

I was startled out of my thoughts by the curtain pulling shut. Scipio got up, his arm unconsciously around my shoulder as he listened. A party of tourists shuffled past the confessional while their guide described the mosaics above their heads in a quiet voice.

I finished counting under my breath, seriously counting to fifty. Scipio looked down at me, slightly amused. "Well, you're certainly quick at counting, _Cara_," he said as he pushed the curtain aside, holding it open for me.

I shrugged and stepped into the open.

"You have a look, Prosper," Scipio whispered while he pulled me to his side, pretending to point things out on the ceiling to me. His warm, slightly shaky breath tickled my skin, his voice whispering in my ear. "I'm sorry I got to mad at you."

So I _was_ forgiven. I stared up at the angel--did it just smile at me? "I'm sorry for teasing you," I replied, also in a whisper. His hand found mine, the other sliding around my waist.

Prosper came out looking uneasy, holding a rustling basket.

"I hope it's a snake," I said immediately as Scipio and I turned to look at him. Prosper turned a slight shade of pink at seeing us in each other's arms, but held out the basket. Scipio and Prosper looked at me, strange looks on their faces. I shrugged, smiling.

"Where do you get such a crazy idea?" Prosper asked. I grinned wider, but didn't reply.

Scipio put his ear to the basket. "Yes, there's something rustling. But I can also hear cooing and pecking," he muttered. "Ever hear of a cooing snake?"

He opened the lid enough to peer inside. "Well!" he said, and quickly closed the lid again. "It's a pigeon."

"Oh well. A girl can dream, can't she?"

* * *

Hornet jumped up when we came over, and Prosper looked around quickly when he couldn't see Bo. As Hornet pointed at Victor and Bo I clasped the belt around the lid of the basket (to keep it from opening we had used a belt I had stolen off of some kid...hee-hee...) and pushed it securely into Mosca's arms. I jumped after Prosper who was making his way toward Victor and Bo with a very anxious face.

Bo smiled and posed for Victor's camera. He still had a pigeon on his hand. As soon as Prosper saw the camera he quickened his pace--he was flat out running now, knocking past people. "Bo!" he yelled frantically, practically bowling over my identical older self and her husband. I jumped over the people who had been knocked over, landing on all fours like a cat before jumping up and running again--can you say 'cat burglar'?

Prosper was now just a few long strides away. "Take care, and don't accept ice cream from strangers!" I heard Victor call out to Bo. Then he took a few brisk steps backward, and slipped into the next large group wandering across the square, letting the crowd pull him away.

Anybody could make himself hard to see, if he played it right--I should know.

"Darn it, Bo, can't you just do as you're told for once?" Scipio scolded somewhat breathlessly.

"You were gone for ages!" Bo grumbled. "And I was bored." He looked over his shoulder for Victor the pigeon guy but he was only just coming up in his new disguise--the "pigeon man" was gone.

"I had him in sight all the time," Hornet said. "So calm down."

I rolled my eyes.

"Come on, let's get back to the Star-Palace." Scipio turned away from the big square and impatiently waved to the others to follow him. "I haven't got much time today." I made a note to walk him home.

As Prosper explained things to the others and they followed the book, I looked out for Victor. He was following us. Scipio began to speak to me and I realized where we were at. We were already in the souvenir shop--it had shelves and shelves of masks...

"Rae, come on." Scipio was waving me over to the door with Hornet, Riccio and Mosca. I knew what we were doing. "We'll take a look outside. Maybe we'll find him. What was he wearing?" I stood, leaning against the glass and looking out the window for any sign of Victor, not paying attention to Scipio's explanation of the plan. "Got all that?" Scipio asked Hornet, Riccio, Mosca and I. We nodded. "Then let's go."

One by one we slipped outside. Prosper and Bo watched us from the window.

Hornet was looking around, acting very casual, checking out the gondolas and then started toward them. Hardly a second later I walked out and whistled. There was a bark from down the street and then people began dodging out of the way of Shasta. The few children who were around in the crowd followed him over to me and began asking if they could pet him. I laughed and let them, a smile on my face, but I kept a glance trained on Victor. Mosca came out and headed off toward the Star-Palace.

Riccio skipped out next and headed off toward the cake shop--Shasta was looking at it hopefully, his nose snuffling in the wonderful baking smells. Riccio pressed his nose against the window.

Next came my blossoming thief, Scipio. He stood in front of the door, just right behind me, watching as I held on to Shasta's collar to keep him from running into the bakery and begging like a little street rat. Then he looked around with a face that gave nothing away and knelt down to tie his shoelaces. He straightened himself again, and strolled whistling past me toward the _gondolieri_ who were still trying to net customers at the bridge. _"Gondola! Gondola!"_ they called.

I stood, apologized to the little children who had still been fondling over Shasta, and then followed Scip at a distance, watching as Victor closed his eyes, no doubt thinking about a Gondola ride. Mental note: go on a gondola ride someday...preferably with Scip.

"_Scusi!"_ Scipio said from beside Victor. The detective jumped. I smirked as I strolled around a bit, taking the very long way around to them. "Can you tell me the time, please?" Scipio said, taking a very close look at Victor's checkered sweater.

Victor frowned as he looked at his watch. "Four sixteen," he grunted.

I heard Scipio swear softly. Obviously he was running low on time. "Thank you," Scipio said, recovering quickly. "That's a nice watch; does it also show the time on the moon?" His dark eyes sparkled with laughter. I smiled--I loved the look on his face. He looked so happy and worry-free...like a normal kid, at a normal school, with a normal life. With a normal, happy, loving family. "Are you English?"

"No. I'm an Eskimo, can't you tell?" Victor growled, looking over Scipio's head at Prosper and Bo. I heard Shasta snort, as though laughing at the obvious fake-ness of Victor's beard, which was coming off a bit. Scipio chuckled slightly and made a motion to his face. Victor reached up to feel his beard and cursed, turning around to fix it.

Thus occupied, he didn't notice when Scipio strolled off toward me. His calm demeanor was only betrayed by his long, quick strides. He stopped in front of me. "It's him," he muttered, and then we both hurried to the shop. The others were there already. "All right, it's him," Scipio said, his eyes darkening to the color of Dad's morning coffee. "Come on."

We walked out of the shop in perfect formation with Prosper and Bo in the middle. Not one of us glanced at Victor, but we giggled and chuckled and whispered about how silly Victor was.

In no hurry at all, we all strolled away in the direction of the Rialto. As the others headed into an alley, Scipio's hand found mine and gave it a quick squeeze. "Careful, _Cara,_" he murmured in my ear. I gave him a quick smile before falling into step at the back of our little line. Hornet joined me.

When the 'two large ladies' stepped out of a cafe, laughing and arguing, I slowed a bit, turning slightly, bracing myself for impact. Hornet grimaced, already ahead of me, walking considerably faster. Victor squeezed passed the two women and then ran straight into Hornet, thus tripping and flying into me. Stepping on my foot, too--and may I say that that _hurt_?

I glared at him, and before Victor realized what was going on I threw myself at him and lashed out at his checkered sweater, yelling at the top of my lungs, "LET ME GO! LET ME GO! No! I don't want to come with you! HELP! SOMEBODY HELP!"

Hornet kicked Victor in the shins, tearing at his hair and shirt. "Let her go, let my sister go!" she screamed, voice shrill and piercing.

Sister? I nearly stopped and hugged her right then and there.

For a moment he just stood and stared down at us, hardly wincing as Hornet tore a large handful of mustache off. Then he tried to push me away...but, let's just say that having a fifth degree black belt in karate as a dad comes in handy. I wasn't going to let him get away after the others.

To his absolute, obvious horror, Shasta jumped at him too, barking loudly and snarling. In the meantime, the others had disappeared. Poor bloke, he had a dog and two banshees attacking him. Almost felt bad for him—not quite, though.

"Stop!" Victor yelled. "Stop, you rotten little devils!" He tried again to get me off, but then something hit him in the back of his head and he began to stagger. I jumped back and the large ladies were all over him, swinging their massive handbags at his head. I kept screaming. Hornet kept kicking. Shasta kept snarling and barking and growling, biting into Victor's jacket. The ladies were quite happy with hitting him, and the crowd was getting ever angrier. _They're going to crush something,_ I thought to myself, clicking loudly to Shasta. Immediately he let go of Victor's jacket (but took a piece with him as a chew toy), I grabbed Hornet's jacket, and then we were gone.

"That was _fun!_ We sure showed him, all right!" I said, once we were all safely back in the hideout. I had a slight scratch on my cheek, but I was grinning from ear to ear.

"Look what I got in all the commotion." Hornet produced Victor's wallet from her pocket and handed it to me. I flung it to Prosper.

"Don't get angry at her," I said quietly, and then looked at Scipio as I tuned out of the other's conversations. He met my eyes and gave me a slight, very fearful smile.

He was late.

I tuned out again, sitting down with Shasta and Bo. As the others opened the Conte's envelope and things I thought deeply. I would start Scipio's lessons tonight--once I had dropped him off at his house I would write myself my spy-ware. I grinned slightly at the thought. As Scipio put on his own jacket and handed Hornet the photo, card and floor plan, he said,

"I've got to go. I'll be gone for a while--at least three days. Until I return, would you please observe the house for me? We have to know everything: Who comes and goes, the habits of the people living there, how many visitors, when the house is empty, the best way to get in, and whether or not there are really any dogs there. You know, the usual stuff. Check whether the doors are marked in the right places on the floor plan. The house is supposed to have a garden, which may be useful. Oh, and Prosper?" Scipio turned to him once more. "You and Bo had better not leave here in the next few days. We've shaken off the detective for now, but you never know." He pulled the mask over his face.

As Scipio turned to leave, Riccio stood in his way. I didn't listen as I stood and slipped away down the hall to wait at the door.

When Scipio finally came down, brooding and appearing slightly harassed, I took his hand and walked out with him, closing the door behind me. "How late are you?" I asked him.

He looked miserably at his own watch. "Three hours."

I gasped, stopping. "Three hours!" I exclaimed, ignoring the strange looks I was getting from the dwindling crowd. He nodded. "What's going to happen to you?" I asked in a quieter voice.

He shrugged, scuffing his feet on the ground as he tried to get me moving again. "Yelled at...grounded..." He swallowed hard. "…Beaten..." It came out in a hoarse whisper.

His hands were freezing cold, but tight around mine. I pulled his hands up and tried to warm them by rubbing them between mine. "Rachel, what are we going to do?" he asked suddenly, turning his head to look at me. "I can't do this!"

"Yes, you can. Do you think we could start your lessons tonight?" I asked. "Do you have anything to do tomorrow that you need to be completely awake for? How long do you usually stay up?"

"Yes, I think we should start as soon as possible. No, I do not have anything to do tomorrow, and I usually stay up until...well, around midnight," he answered.

I nodded. "When do you think I should come?" I asked.

"Past eight--_he_ is going out for dinner then. The reason why I said that I wouldn't be able to come for at least three days is because--"

"Because the visitors from Rome are coming, I know," I said, cutting him off. He looked at me strangely and I pulled away in time to avoid getting an eye poked out with his beak. I reached up and took his mask off. "I don't want you to decapitate me with the thing," I explained. He smiled apologetically. I smiled back up at him. "Alright, so maybe an hour of lessons, then?" I suggested. "I'll take you on a raid...and I'll teach you _my _way."

He raised an eyebrow. "Sounds interesting," he said as we turned onto his street. He stopped, still out of sight from his house. "Rae..." he stopped speaking, staring at me with a strange, twisted expression on his face. Suddenly, I was engulfed in his arms; his face buried in my hair, his arms wrapped tightly around my smaller form.

"Rae, I'm scared."


	11. Sins of Existance

I didn't know what to say to that.

But then again, I _did_ know.

I slid my arms around him, holding him close. "I know," I whispered. "I'm scared too."

* * *

I helped Scipio climb to his balcony, and we had a few close calls during the jumping part. Finally, though, we made it safely to his balcony and slipped inside without much incident. His room was dark and silent, his door locked. He silently lit a candle and then placed his mask and jacket under the bed.

I waited by the glass doors, snuffling every now and then because of my runny nose. Finally, after trading his shoes for some spiffy new ones, he turned to me.

"Scip..." I stopped, trying to phrase it correctly. "No matter what, don't let him get to you. Try to avoid giving him any reason to harm you."

His face fell, a look of utter misery coming onto it. "It's hard to not exist," he said bitterly.

I took his hands in mine and made him look at me. "I don't want a dead boyfriend on my hands, alright?" I asked him. His lips twitched--but no smile. I glared at him sulkily. "That deserved a smile at least." I pouted. "I _thought_ you were my boyfriend."

He smiled at that, and held me close. I had my ear to his heart and I could hear it beat swiftly as the sound of a slamming door downstairs reached our ears. He put his face in my hair, breathing deeply. "Rae," he said softly. "I promise I won't die...I'd miss your humor." I pulled away, arranging my face into a scowl.

"I'm serious!"

He looked at me with his perfect, serious face. "So am I." He pressed his lips to my nose gently, and then whispered, "Rae, I don't think I could live without you."

Just as I was about to reply, footsteps reached our ears. They were heavy, angry stomps, coming ever closer. Scipio practically threw me out the doors onto the balcony.

"Run!"

I tripped and fell, unable to catch myself after being pushed so hard. He tried to help me up, but banging on the door made him freeze like a statue, eyes filled with terror. Suddenly the door burst open, just as I had managed to stand and get myself onto the rail. Scipio and I stopped again, staring at the purple-faced Dottore. I could just imagine horns, hooves and a tail on him--he resembled a bull so well. Or maybe I was thinking about the Devil?

My eyes narrowed at him as he began to charge at Scipio, who cringed and stumbled backward, throwing his arms up to protect his face, which was only _just_ healed! Couldn't this man (I use this only in the vaguest, crudest of terms) just leave the poor boy alone for five minutes?

I took one of the potted plants that was next to me and I threw it at Bull-Face. It shattered on impact with his chest, but he didn't even falter. Scipio, freed from his immobile state by the shower of clattering pottery on the floor, looked at me with something like anger on his face. "Get out of here!" he shouted at me. When I hesitated he launched himself at me, forcing me to jump. I heard a strangled yell, as though the Dottore had grabbed Scipio by his collar.

"Scipio!" I turned and looked up, glaring at the horribly tinted face that was glaring down at me.

"Get away from here you brat!" he screamed at me. I jerked away from my spot as spittle rained down on me. "Never come near my son again!"

_Well...I guess you could call that love...or maybe just being possessive?_

"Run, Rae!" Scipio shouted. His voice was shrill with fear and something like fury. The Dottore whipped around to deal with Scipio. I spat in his direction and then turned, disappearing into an alley. I couldn't do anything, I knew that.

And I hated it.

Angry tears slid down my face, but I didn't feel them. My fists were clenched so hard that I wasn't surprised when I felt warm liquid slipping down between my fingers. I hated that..._man_...with all my being--I hated him! My new mantra: _I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him!_

I kicked at a rat, but missed, making myself slide on the slick pavement and fall. My bloody hands scraped against the cold ground and I curled them into aching fists again, slamming them down in anger. The next time I saw the Dottore I would--

Tears splattered against my hands, making them sting. Reality checked in and I realized how much I hurt--physically and emotionally. I bet none of you have seen your boyfriend getting hurt so much, knowing that he would be beaten to an inch of his life, and not being able to do a _damn_ thing about it. I bet none of you have been thrown from your normal life into an entirely made up one, not being able to see the ones you love. _Finally_ realizing how much you took for granted, how you even miss the ones you said you'd _never_ miss...

I choked on tears, coughing and spluttering as I breathed them in, and they were only followed by more. I laughed bitterly to myself. I'd never cried so much before. I closed my eyes and pulled my knees up to my face, crying into my dirty jeans. I realized how badly I needed new clothes--my jeans were dirty and ripped in the knees, fraying and muddy at the bottoms, my black jacket was frayed in the slightly long sleeves, and it was getting a bit threadbare. I could feel the ground through the bottom of my shoes, and my laces were drippy and wet…

_Just like a girl to think about clothes when her boyfriend's dying!_ I thought vehemently.

The tears kept coming.

And I was all alone.

* * *

**Scipio**

Everything hurt--my arms, my throat, my jaw, my head... Even my eyes. I coughed up something--gunk from my throat...or maybe blood? I don't know. I only knew that with each breath it felt like my lungs were on fire.

How could he do this to me? He was killing me; even if not from these physical beatings_. How could he do this?_ My hands curled into fists, my nails digging into the palms of my hands. Tears were pricking at my eyes; I hated him... But I wanted, more than anything else, for him to accept me. For one kind word...

The doors opening made me open my eyes. Even doing _that_ hurt.

Rae, looking like a drowned cat, stepped inside. Her face was pale, but her eyes were red. It was obvious that she had been crying. She took off her wet coat and draped it over the foot of the bed, and slid off her shoes. She sat down on the bed, almost as if she was consciously choosing to be as far away from me as possible. "I'm sorry," she said as she pulled her knees up to her chin. "I probably got you into more trouble than you would have been in."

"No, Rae," I reached out a hand and took one of hers. It was freezing cold and her fingers were unresponsive. Her skin was blue under the pink-red stains on them, and I could feel scabs forming on her palms. "It doesn't matter. As long as you're real, I can deal with it. I'm still afraid that I'll wake up one day and find that you were only a dream."

She looked up at me, and shook her head.

"What's real?"

* * *

**3rd POV**

Rae gave him a pair of sunglasses, whose lenses were tinted blue. She switched a tiny switch on one of the lenses and there was a small beep. She took out a pair of her own, green-tinted glasses and put them on. "Alright. Just sit tight," she murmured. He rolled his eyes behind the glasses.

"What else can I do?" he asked.

She didn't answer as she pulled on her coat. "What house should I rob?" she asked.

He blinked. "Uh..."

"What house? You must at least know some rich households," she explained.

"Oh...yeah... Alright. Try...the house that's two blocks from here. The house in the middle."

Rae nodded and grimaced as she turned to the doors. She had only just managed to get her socks dry...her shoes were still wet. She didn't want to go out into the rain again--it was so warm in here… She shook her head and before she could fight with herself she opened the door and had stepped out into the rain.

Scipio's mouth fell open. Looking through the glasses he could see what she was seeing--the balcony, the houses across from it, the gardens below.

_Amazing_.

Rae followed his instructions and came to the house. It was even more..._dauntingly_ rich than Scipio's house was. And that was just the outside. Rae muttered something to herself and then clicked a small thing on her glasses. A small microphone extended from the glasses so that it was next to her mouth.

"Scip, can you hear me?" she murmured.

"This is amazing Rae, where'd you get them?" she heard his amazed voice in her ear.

She chuckled. "That's for me to know and you to not," she replied, and then sobered. "Alright, so I want you to take note of everything I do. Then, when I get back, I want you to tell me the essentials of a thief."

"Ok..."

"Now, shut up. Don't blow my cover...I'm going in."

She clicked off the microphone and the night-vision kicked in. She quietly walked up to the door, her footsteps silent, and peeked inside. There were no alarms that she could see. No red, blinking lights or little electrical boxes. Good. She took out her special key with adjustable teeth and stuck it into the lock, twisting it to see if it worked. She pulled it out again and moved the teeth; she placed it back into the lock and twisted. There was a click and she smiled.

She took the key out and placed it into her pocket again, and then opened the door silently--it didn't creak, of course, because it was well taken care of. She stepped softly, the sound of her wet sneakers sounding awfully loud on the marble floor. But the fountain in the center of the room masked her steps, and she scanned the room, not particularly caring. She looked down the hall, making sure there were no lights on, and then she quietly walked up the stairs.

There were no lights on upstairs either. She walked, slightly bent as she walked in the shadows. She came to a door and opened it a crack, looking inside. It appeared to be the study. She took a deep breath as she slid inside. Her eyes widened behind her glasses--she had had only a limited view of a desk and a chair in front of a window, but now she saw how _big_ the room was. And how beautiful.

There was a medium sized pool--not a swimming pool, but one of those beautiful, crystal clear pools that were like mirrors. The water was right up to the brim, not spilling over at all, and if it did there was a small ledge that would catch the water, but it was placed in such a way that you would never have noticed it. There was a larger ledge around the edge of the pool that you could sit on, and Rae thought that if she weren't here for stealing she would have liked to get a closer look.

The room was carpeted with a thick oriental rug that reminded Rae strongly of home. Her gaze swept the room, taking in the shelves of books, the armchairs...the displays.

_Bingo._

She walked over to one of the pedestals. It had a beautiful display of earrings and a necklace--all made with diamonds and rubies. She carefully picked up the jewels and placed them in her bag which she had taken from her other pocket. It was padded so that the loot wouldn't jingle and give her away. She moved to the next display--also jewelry. She took three more displays and then deemed that enough. As a certain friend of hers said, a thief must never be greedy--or else _she'll_ get caught.

She turned and began to head for the door...but a glint of silver light caught the corner of her eye. She turned and looked at the pool.

The moon had come out from behind the dark clouds and the rain had lessened briefly. The silvery rays of light hit the black satin waters of the pool and she felt hypnotized by its still beauty. She wanted to go over and sit by it and touch it...it was hypnotizing. She took a step toward it before she caught her reflection in the windows that let the moon come in. Her current job came back to her and she turned on her heel, and walked out the door.

She turned and listened for any sound of snoring or such. When her ears picked up the steady sounds of sleeping, she was sure that the people who lived there were still unaware of her presence. She turned to the stairs and continued down. Her feet had dried a bit upstairs, and now her footsteps were completely silent. The sound of the fountain reached her ears and she glanced at it as she headed toward the door. The fountain was of a Greek goddess, she guessed, and she was awed by the beauty in her marble skin, the folds of her white gown...She looked away and continued to the door. She opened it and slid out, locking it behind her with her adjustable key.

As she walked away, her steps proud but quiet, the clouds slid over the moon again and the rain came down again. The microphone slid down to her mouth once more. "Mission accomplished. Now, what are the essentials?" she asked him as she turned the corner.

"Um..."

"Take a guess."

"Well...be quiet?"

"Yes..." _Duh_.

"Have the right tools; don't wear noisy shoes...um..."

Rae nodded. "Those are the basics...yeah. How about 'dress appropriately' instead of just don't wear noisy shoes? Yes. Anyway... Now tell me the steps one takes when on a raid," she said. She walked under an overhang as the clouds burst on her. She shook her wet hair out of her eyes.

"Alright...Hmm. Make sure there are no alarm systems, see that there is no one to see you enter the house, tread quietly, and don't be greedy."

"Good job, Scipio," Rae said with a smile. _I can't think of anything else… Then again, I'm not a thief!_ She pulled up her collar and hunched her shoulders so no rain would go down her back. Then she set off again.

When she stepped inside, the lights were out except for the single candle at his bedside. She draped her coat over the foot of his bed again and then kicked off her shoes. "With this money I'll be able to get new clothes," she said, gesturing to her shoes and her jeans. He rolled his eyes.

"Is that all girls think about? Clothes?" He asked.

She lay down beside to him and gave him a light push. "No. I usually try not to think about clothes and fashion. But sometimes a girl has to get a new outfit, I mean, I can feel the ground through the bottoms of my shoes, I can hardly tie them because the laces are practically falling apart in my fingers, and the rest of my clothes are thin and cold."

He nodded. "I see." She yawned and closed her eyes for a moment, relishing the warmth of the room and the softness of the bed... She felt him roll over onto his side and wrap an arm around her waist. "Promise you'll be there when I come back to the Star-Palace?" he murmured. "Promise you'll be real?"

She smiled slightly and relaxed, pressing her lips to his bruised skin.

"I promise."

_What's real?_


	12. Getz Me Out

Rae woke to warm sunlight filtering through the curtains onto her hair, her face curtained by the dark strands. Her right arm was under a lusciously soft feather pillow, while her other arm was thrown around a warm, solid something. She had a thick, warm blanket pulled over her, up to her face, but something was on her waist. It was an extra weight. She didn't mind one bit. It was probably just Shasta.

She was just settling back into sleep when Shasta moved. Only it _wasn't_ Shasta.

Instead of a paw, there was a hand, which was running up her arm to her shoulder to push her hair out of her face. "Mmm," she groaned softly. She heard a chuckle and felt warm breath on her cheek.

"I didn't expect you to stay the entire night, _Cara_," he murmured, before kissing her on the cheek.

She opened her eyes and met his dark chocolate almonds. He looked much better than before; maybe because he had gotten some undisturbed rest? She smiled at him. "Good-morning to you too."

He wrinkled his nose playfully. "Ugh, morning breath."

She pushed him away, rolling her eyes as she sat up. She yawned and stretched. "The others are probably worrying about me…what time is it?" she asked.

He glanced at his own watch. "Almost lunch."

She gasped. "How could you let me sleep so late?" she hissed, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

He smiled charmingly, one side of his grin higher than the other, giving him a slightly mischievous look. "Well I'm sorry, Rae, but you looked so peaceful, like you were having a good dream. I didn't want to wake you," he said calmly, sitting down beside her. "Besides, you looked better than Sleeping Beauty—and there was no rush to save you from a curse or anything…" He leaned closer, that roguish grin of his making her heart stumble over beats. "Why are you complaining, huh?"

She ran a hand through her hair distractedly, her mind foggy from sleep and that smile. "Stop it," she muttered. "I can't think with that look on your face."

His grin widened. "What? This?" He made the same face and leaned even closer, his breath blowing some of her hair away from her eyes.

She glared at him, pushing him away. "Yes, that one." He pouted, which was probably even worse than his smile. Rae closed her eyes and stuck her tongue out at him. "Bah humbug. So what have you been doing the past few hours?" she asked.

His hand found hers, his thumb rubbing the back of it, sending thrills up her arm. "Lessons," he said simply. "Aced the Math test they had made for me, did relatively well on the History review, and then absolutely flunked the pop quiz on 'How to behave when relatives you hate arrive unexpectedly at breakfast'."

She couldn't help but laugh. He covered her mouth with his hand. "Shh," he hissed, looking at the door anxiously. "I don't want you to be found."

"I should get going," she muttered, standing. He followed and walked her to the doors. They were both open and the curtains were swaying in the delicious breeze. The sun was streaming through them in a way that made everything seem like summer. This was very unusual, but welcome, since it was getting deeper into winter. "I'll see you in a few days," Rae said.

Scipio nodded, but seemed reluctant to let go of her hand. She suddenly remembered something, and she spun around, snatching up her coat and slipping her feet into her shoes. "Almost forgot," she said. She grimaced at Scipio. "See what you do to me? I swear, you're bad for my health."

He rolled his eyes. "If anything, _you _are bad for _my_ health," he said.

Rae sighed. "True, true…"

He shook his head and ran a hand through her tangled hair. It sent shivers down her spine to feel his fingers running down her neck, down her spine; he apparently noticed and smiled softly, resting his forehead against hers. "Come on, leave already—I've got lessons to go to, people to see," he murmured.

She sighed. "Shut up and _let_ me leave."

He gave her one last kiss before she managed to pull away and slide out the curtains, onto the balcony and the rail. She didn't look back till she was down on the street again and even then it was only a glance. She saw Scipio leaning against his rail, watching her intently.

She turned again and then was off.

**

* * *

Scipio, Some Other Day**

My cat had been acting very strange lately: Not eating, coughing up mucus from her throat, and vomiting. I was absolutely sure that she was ill and, as whenever this happened, I had a sense of panic and thought that she might die. I _knew_ that she wouldn't die—she was still a young cat—but there was still that feeling of doubt.

I decided, finally, to ask Father to take her to the vet. I carried her through the halls of the house, stopping some of the maids to ask them where Father was. Finally someone knew, and I headed off to his study.

"Father," I said, opening the door with my shoulder, "I think the cat's sick…"

"Scipio!" Father's face swelled and turned the color of a plum. A great, big plum. With hair. "Can't you see I have a visitor? How often do I have to tell you to knock? What if the gentlemen from Rome had been here already? How would it look if my son barged into our meeting because of a sick cat?" His voice had been raising and his fists were making wild, sharp gestures that made me flinch. It was too much like what he always did before…you know.

"She's really not well," I murmured, quickly bowing my head. Out of the corner of my eye I saw his visitor. The man who he had been talking with upon my entrance was none other than that snoop, Victor Getz. I hoped he didn't recognize me, but that hope wasn't too high.

"She's probably unwell because she's just had kittens," Father said in a bored voice, which I had come to associate with later punishment. "It's not worth calling a vet. If she dies you'll get a new one." And then, ignoring his own son, Father turned to Getz again.

"Do continue, Signor…?"

"Getz," the snoop repeated.

I held my cat close to me as I stood there, stiff and silent. She knew not to meow in father's presence or else he would kick her; but she did purr pathetically in my ear.

"As I said, I am not interested in buying the Stella." I jumped at the mention of the Star-Palace. _Merda,_ he was on to us. "I'm writing an article about the city's movie theaters and I would like to include the Stella. So I would like your permission to have a look around there."

"Interesting," Father said, glancing out the window where a water taxi had just pulled up on the canal. I tuned them out, appearing to be listening intently and waiting to be dismissed by Father. Yeah right. _That bas_…Okay, never mind about waiting to be dismissed like a good boy. I needed to get to the Stella and warn them before Getz got there… I had just put my hand on the doorknob, but then:

"Scipio, come and help me, since you're just standing there like a lemon."

When Father waved at me to hurry up, I felt sick. I didn't want to even be near him; I didn't want him to touch me at all. It was bad enough that I behaved like a beaten dog when he was on the other side of the room—being within five feet of him was even worse.

I pushed past Victor and forced myself to walk toward Father. _"Dottore!" _the maid put her head around the door. "Your guests from Rome are waiting. Will you receive the gentlemen in the library or shall I bring them up?"

"I'll come to the library," he said curtly. "Scipio, will you ask Mr. Getz to sign a receipt for the key? You can manage _that_, I hope?" He said that with contempt; as though I couldn't do anything. "There should be a tag on the key ring with the name of the movie theater," he added.

"I _know_," I muttered without moving or looking at him.

"Do send me a copy of your article, as soon as it is published," Father said, already striding past Victor and out of the office.

There was a deathly silence, now that he had left the room. I gently set my cat down and she slunk out of the other door, still looking ill; then I stood next to the open drawer and watched Victor like I had seen mice look at cats. I remained tense, ready to bolt.

I regarded the Snoop just as he regarded me. He certainly recognized me; it was no use playing dumb. But that didn't mean I couldn't play mute. I had to warn the others, too, and my only hope was to run for it.

I made a dash for the door.

He stuck an arm out and it caught me on my neck—I choked, doubling over, holding my throat. It was already bruised from father's last 'lesson', and now it felt like it was on fire. Hot, agonized tears splattered on the carpet.

"Hold it!" the detective called, standing in my way. "Where are you going? To warn your friends? That won't be necessary. I don't intend to hand them over to the police, even though one of your little pit-pocket girlfriends did steal my wallet. I'm not even interested in the fact that you're obviously keeping a little gang in your father's dilapidated movie theater. I don't care! I'm only interested in the two brothers—the ones you have taken in. Prosper and Bo."

I glared at him wordlessly, extremely aware that my eyes were streaming from the pain in my neck. I coughed raggedly in his face, bending over. "You rotten snoop!" I whispered contemptuously, before I gave the carpet on which Victor was standing such a sharp tug that he lost his balance and landed with a crash on his backside. In a flash I shot past him and ran toward the door.

He threw himself to grab my legs, and I nearly lost a shoe before jumping over him and vanishing before he could regain his footing. By the time he had reached the top of the stairs, panting heavily, I was already leaping down the last steps.

"Stop, you little rat!" he bellowed. His voice boomed through the house so loudly that two maids came scampering across the courtyard. "STOP!"

The maids stared at me, blocking my path unconsciously. I couldn't speak, but I looked up at them with pleading eyes. "Good luck, Master Scipio!" One of them covered her eyes and turned away, opening a path for me. "I didn't see you!"

"I _will _find you, you hear me? I will find you!"

I didn't even stop to make a face at him. I didn't dare stop running.

* * *

**Rae's POV  
**

"Well, let's go through it once more," Mosca muttered, pouring over the floor plan the Conte had given us. "We've seen three people entering and leaving the place so far: the fat housekeeper, her husband, and the lady with the dyed-blond hair."

"Signora Ida Spavento," I said, as I lay draped over a chair. I twisted some of my hair around my finger, watching it turn copper in the candlelight. "At first you thought the fat one was the _signora_ and the blond her daughter. But that despicable man who runs the newsstand on the Campo Santa Margherita likes to talk a lot. He told us that the younger one is Ida and the fat one only looks after the house. Signora Spavento lives alone and she travels a lot. He said that she's a photographer. He showed me a magazine with pictures of Venice she had taken. She comes and goes at different times. But the housekeeper goes home between six and seven every evening, like clockwork and her husband usually arrives around midday but he never stays for long. Just as well—he looks as if he eats children for breakfast."

"Yeah, he does," Mosca said, grinning.

Riccio continued for me. "So there's hardly anyone in the house during the day. And the evenings," he sighed, "are the same. Signora Spavento obviously only likes going out during the day. But at least she goes to bed early. The light in her bedroom is out by ten o'clock at the latest."

I yawned and didn't pay attention to the rest. I flipped open my book behind my knees, trying to find where we were. Finally I found it. "Oh great," I muttered as I closed it and put it in my pocket again. I held up my hand and ticked off the seconds. Three, two…one…

"Wasn't that the bell?" Riccio asked, lifting his head. Shasta looked up from where he had been playing with Bo. He remained sitting there, head raised, eyes narrowed and ears pricked in silent concentration. I could hear dull banging, too. Bo slowly stopped running around Shasta.

Everyone listened. Someone was ringing the bell at the emergency exit. "That can't be Scipio—he isn't coming until tomorrow!" Hornet said. "And he usually comes in through his secret entrance anyway."

I stood. "I'll go see," I said. "You guys stay here." The bell kept ringing again and again as I ran down the dark corridor toward the exit. Shasta followed.

After the incident with the detective Mosca had drilled a spy-hole into the door, but it was already so dark outside that when I looked through it I could hardly see anything. Rain was pelting against the entrance and someone was hammering against the metal. Shasta barked once and whined, pawing the door.

"Can't you hear me? Let me in!" a voice pleaded outside. "Won't anybody let me in, damn it!" I heard a sob.

I threw open the door. "Scipio!" I whispered as he fell into my arms.

He was soaked, and his face, although pale and ashen, was streaked with tears and rain. "Lock the door," he choked out, "quick!"

He leaned against the wall, still panting heavily. "You have to leave," he whispered. "Right away. Is everybody here?"

I nodded. "Come on," I said, and then helped him run down the dark corridor. When Scip stumbled into the auditorium, the others stared at him like he was a stranger. Shasta stood protectively by his side, he and I soldiers to protect Scipio from any harsh judgment.

"What happened to you?" Mosca asked, astonished. "Did you fall into a canal? And what's with the fancy clothes?"

"I haven't got time to explain everything!" Scipio yelled, voice extremely loud and panicked. It cracked. "The snoop _knows_—grab what you can and let's get out."

They stared at him in horror. Riccio blinked open-mouthed at him, Mosca frowned and Hornet put her arm around Bo, who looked very frightened. "We don't have to run!" I exclaimed. But it was too late. Everyone had set about running to get their things. Shasta began barking loudly, getting my feeling of urgency, the need to get them to listen. It was no use though.

I sighed and Hornet came over. "I have a plan," she murmured to me.

I nodded. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" I asked her. She nodded.

"Wait a minute!" she bellowed. "I just had an absolutely insane idea—do you want to hear it or should I just shut up?"

* * *

We were hidden on the stage, peering through the curtains and watching the auditorium. Mosca was trying not to giggle, and Scipio was practically lying on top of me. Below us, Shasta was silent, lying on the floor. He was like a statue—not even his ears moved.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you!" Victor said out loud. "I've always been a first-class seeker. And when I played tag I always caught everyone, even with my short legs." His voice sounded weird and distorted as it echoed through the large room. "You can't possibly think," he called as he shined his flashlight between the red chairs, "that this could go on forever? What do you live on? Stealing? How long is that going to last? To be honest, I don't really care. I'm only interested in two of you."

"Hey, Victor!" Bo called, sticking his head out of the curtains. It was his little game—and it was going to be won by _us_. "Come and catch me!" He paused, thinking, and then asked, "Do you have a gun?"

"Of course!" Victor pushed his hand underneath his jacket as if he was reaching for his revolver. "Do you want to see it?"

Bo slowly stepped out of his hiding place. He stood there, head cocked to one side. "I'm not scared," said Bo. "That's probably just a plastic gun."

"Well, well, if that's what you think. You're a real smart one." We had slipped back stage, and had crept around through the chairs, unnoticed. By the time Victor realized we were there, we were already sitting on him. I was holding onto his right arm while Mosca had grabbed his left; Prosper and Riccio were clinging to his legs. Shasta was standing to my left, paws firmly planted and lips bared in a growl. Right on Victor's chest, however, with his knees on either side of the felled detective, sat Scipio, smiling mockingly.

"You little _demon!_" Victor shouted. "You—"

"Don't talk like that to my boyfriend!" I said cheerfully. Scipio shot me a roguish smile. Then he wedged a rag between Victor's teeth.

"What are you doing? Shouldn't we interrogate him first?" Mosca asked. "We don't even know if he's really only after Prop and Bo."

I tuned them out, and when Victor tried to get his arm back, I just twisted it so that his elbow was facing up-wards, and the edge of my palm was on the pressure point just above it. "If you don't stop moving I swear I'll mess your arm up so bad that you'll never be able to snoop the same again," I hissed.

He immediately froze.

Finally, after we had gathered up all the ropes and belts we could find and hog-tied him like a cow in a rodeo, I got the job of searching him. I searched everywhere, and I mean everywhere—socks, shoes, pockets, jacket linings—and I came up with a cell phone, some money, a ring of keys, some tools and his revolver. It felt deadly in my hand as I held it gingerly—I could practically feel the death it could deal. "Give it to me," Hornet murmured. "I'll hide it."

She left to hide it, holding it as though it could explode in her hand.

Scipio got off of Victor, finally, and stood next to me, crossing his arms, his face stony. "Well, Mr. Detective," he said with a quiet, grave voice, "that will teach you to mess with us." Then he turned to us. "Let's put him in the men's bathroom."


	13. Word of Honor

I was standing in the rain, hat pulled down to keep my face from getting too drenched. Shasta was glowering at my side. I had come with Prosper, Riccio and Hornet to meet Scipio at Ida's house. Of course, I knew that he wouldn't come, so I didn't _have_ to go, you know. Though, I didn't have anything el_s_e to do, so…

It had been no more than two days since we had caught Victor, and during the time that had passed I was either playing with Prosper and Bo or sitting in my room with Shasta. It had been very boring.

Speaking of Shasta, he suddenly growled as the fat housekeeper and her three dogs came into view across the square. He had never liked yapping dogs, and these three were crying to raise the dead.

"Here's a piece of good luck!" Riccio whispered.

"I don't like those dogs," Hornet breathed to no one in particular. "What if they're still in the house when we go in? They're small, but big enough to bite."

"We can take care of them." Riccio smoothed his shaggy hair, and gave us a wink. "Wait here."

"What are you doing?" Hornet hissed. "Don't be stupid."

But Riccio was already strolling across the square. I sighed and watched. He seemed to be looking everywhere 'cept at the housekeeper, who was obviously struggling to keep up with her dogs. "Watch out!" she shouted.

Riccio paid no attention to her. Just as she attempted to steer past him, he stepped right into her way so that there was no chance for her to avoid him. I watched as they collided. The stuffed bags landed on the square and the dogs immediately shot towards Shasta, who snarled at them to keep away. They didn't pay attention, and began to pull him down—he knew not to fight with them, and therefore he was dragged underneath them. They chewed at his ears, which I knew annoyed him, _so_ much.

"What's the hedgehog doing?" Hornet whispered to Prosper as Riccio ran eagerly after the cabbages while the _signora,_ cursing loudly, bent over to pick up the apples.

Now we could hear the fat lady cursing, "What the devil were you thinking, running into me like that?"

I chuckled, whether at Shasta's plight or the housekeeper's, even I wasn't sure.

"_Scusi!"_ Riccio gave her a smile so broad that it showed off all his disgusting teeth. "I'm just looking for the dentist. Dr. Spavento. Is that his house there?"

"Don't be ridiculous!" the lady snapped at him. "There's no dentist in there. Mind you, you look like you need one badly. That's the house of Signora Ida Spavento. Now, get out of my way before I throw one of these cabbages at you."

"I'm terribly sorry, Signora." Riccio suddenly looked very downtrodden. Even I nearly fell for it—he was almost as good as Bo. "May I help you with those bags?"

"Well, now look at that! A real gentleman!" The lady tucked a gray strand of hair out of her face. She was already looking slightly more favorably at Riccio. But then she frowned again. "Hold on. You don't think you're going to earn something out of this, you little rascal?"

_Of course, Signora, I _do_, you just don't,_ I thought to myself. It would end in us having a more accurate layout of the house.

Riccio looked sincerely hurt and shook his head vigorously. "No way, Signora!"

"All right then, I might just take you up on your offer." Signora Spavento's housekeeper passed Riccio the shopping bags and then I rescued Shasta from his tormentors. I took their leashes and then walked them over to the housekeeper.

"I believe these are yours?" I said cheerfully, a smile spreading on my face. I didn't _feel _like smiling, though… I missed Scipio, and the gloomy atmosphere was just giving off that...atmosphere.

She took the leashes and wrapped them tightly around her plump wrist. "Yes, they are," she said.

I nodded and pretended to listen. "Have a nice day—I hear my mother calling," I said smoothly, and then walked away again.

"It's not every day a real gentleman crosses my path," I heard Ida's housekeeper say to Riccio. Prosper and Hornet walked after them, Hornet shooting an inquiring look at me over her shoulder—but I had already knelt down next to Shasta. He grumbled and nosed my neck, trying to get his face out of the rain. I laughed weakly and took my hat off, placing it on his head.

"There," I said, rocking back on my heels. "You look very _dashing._" He grinned at me, his tongue hanging out of his mouth, as though saying _'I know I am!'_ I shook my head.

When Riccio and the others came back, Riccio told us all he had found out. When Prosper said, "It's nearly one o'clock, and Scipio still isn't here. I hope nothing's happened," I pressed my lips together and didn't say anything. We waited for another half hour. Then, the others feeling anxious, we made our way to Victor's apartment to feed his deserted tortoise.

"I don't get it," Riccio said as we stood in front of Victor's house. "What could have happened to Scipio?"

As we struggled up the steep staircase to Victor's office, Hornet panted, "It's probably nothing. He's often late when we arrange to meet at the hideout." But she was worried. I was too busy cursing the stairs to care, really.

Riccio picked Victor's lock. Once inside, we saw that Victor's tortoise husband really looked quite lonely—I wanted to say, "Aww…" He hardly poked his head out of his shell when Prosper and Hornet bent over his box. Only when Prop offered him a lettuce leaf did his wrinkly neck come out.

Riccio ignored the tortoise. Instead, he tried Victor's disguises in front of the mirror. I snorted as he tried to act out the character he looked like; a gruff old man, a swindler, and even the Redbeard. "And how do I look now?" Riccio asked, stroking a full reddish beard—not the same one as the 'red-beard' one.

"Like a gnome," Hornet answered. I giggled.

She pulled a book from the shelf where Victor kept his well-thumbed crime novels. Then she made herself comfortable on one of Victor's chairs and settled down to read. _Terrible taste—no _Lord Peter _titles...Tsk tsk, Victor…_ I spotted an Agatha Christie, _Miss Marple_ novel that I hadn't finished and snatched it up, flipping to the general spot where I had left off. Then I sat down against Shasta's wet back and began to read, keeping an ear out for the phone.

"Let it ring," Hornet said. She smiled. "It's not going to be for us, is it?"

Ten minutes later, the phone rang again just as Prosper found a transparent cover with a photograph of him and his brother. Mesmerized, he stared at the picture. I glanced up, and then went back to reading. It was _The Moving Finger._ Of course, I had read it before, but hey, when you stop in the middle (even if you _have_ read it before) you've got to finish, right?

Finally, when Hornet picked up the phone, I closed the book and listened. _"Pronto!" _she said in a low voice. "Victor Getz's office. How can I help you?

"What was your name? Hartlieb?" She pressed the speaker button. I jumped when Esther's voice screeched through the office. Shasta whimpered softly, putting his head under his paws.

"…have been trying for days to reach Mr. Getz. He told me he was on the boys' trail. He even told me he would send me a picture he took of the two of them in St. Mark's Square…."

The others exchanged shocked, worried looks. Hornet looked at me and mouthed, _What should I say?_

I nodded at her. "Mr. Getz is not here at the moment, _Signora,_" I said politely. "He has been very busy over the past few days, with new leads on your case. Currently he is looking into a possible hiding place of theirs—and it is looking extremely promising."

There was silence for a moment. We hardly dared to breathe.

"Well, that's very interesting," she replied, "but I would really rather receive that information from Mr. Getz himself. Please put me through."

"I'm sorry, _Signora,_" Hornet said, calming down slightly, catching on to my plan. "But as we already said, Mr. Getz is not here at the moment. Maybe you might try again in a week's time—"

"Now listen here, whoever you are," Esther's voice cut through the air like a knife, "I've already left a message for Mr. Getz on the answering machine, but it can't do any harm to leave it a second time. My husband will be back in Venice on business in two days' time. I will meet Mr. Getz on Tuesday in the Hotel Sandwirth, three o'clock sharp! Good day." Then there was a sharp click on the line.

"What's with these people and three o'clock?" I asked, breaking the miserable silence that hung over us.

"We've got to go," said Prosper. He put the files back where he had found them. Hornet gave him an anxious look, but then she ran over to Victor's shelf and stuffed a few books under her pullover.

"Wouldn't it be great if someone really _nice_ was after you like that?" Riccio pushed his tongue into the gap in his teeth. "Some nice filthy-rich uncle or grandfather, just like in the stories Hornet reads to us."

"Esther is rich," Prosper said as he held the door open.

"Really?" Riccio stuffed Victor's beards into a backpack. "Could you ask her if she'd take me instead of Bo? I'm not much bigger than him and I don't ask for much. Just as long as she doesn't hit me."

"She wouldn't do that," Prosper said as he looked through the drawers once more. "What photograph was she talking about? I knew he had photographed Bo feeding the pigeons. Riccio, take that camera. Maybe the picture's still in there."

Riccio hung the camera around his neck and stood once more in front of Victor's mirror. _"Buongiorno_ Signora Esther!" he said, smiling and tightly closing his mouth so that no one could see his bad teeth. "Would you like to be my mother? I hear you don't hit children and you have lots of money."

"Forget it!" Hornet said to him as she looked over her shoulder. "Prosper's aunt wants a little teddy bear and not a hedgehog with bad teeth. Come on, let's get out of here. We'll take the tortoise with us since the snoop is our prisoner."

"Maybe Scipio has already turned up at the hideout!" Riccio said hopefully as he walked out of Victor's office. I felt bad for Riccio, hearing the hope in his voice, and almost considered writing that Scipio _did_ come. Almost.

"Perhaps," Prosper replied.

But none of us really believed it.

* * *

Bo opened the door for us when we got back to the Stella.

"Bo!" Prosper exclaimed. "I told you not to come to the door! Where's Mosca?"

"I had to answer the door; Mosca's busy," Bo said, scrunching up his face as Shasta licked him. "Victor's showing him how to repair his radio." Then he and Shasta bounded away, Bo whistling to himself while Shasta weaved around him.

When Prosper, Hornet, Riccio and I reached the auditorium we found the door to the men's bathroom wide open. Mosca's laughter rebounded around the room.

"I don't believe it!" Riccio shouted. He was standing in front of the open door, his mouth hanging open in disbelief. "What on earth are you up to, Mosca? Is that your idea of keeping watch? Who said you can untie him?"

Mosca jumped and turned around, surprise clear on his face. He was kneeling next to Victor on the blanket and his hand was stretched out, screwdriver in hand, ready to be passed to Victor. "Calm down, Riccio. He gave me his word of honor that he wouldn't run away!" he said. "Victor knows a lot about radios and I think he can fix it."

"To heck with your radio!" Riccio shouted. "And to heck with his word of honor. He's going to be tied up again _right now!_" He stomped his foot in impatience and irritation.

"Listen, Hedgehog," Victor groaned, struggling to get up on his stiff legs. I slid forward and held out my arm to help him up. "No one disrespects my word of honor, understood? You can always trust Victor Getz's word of honor, one hundred percent."

"Exactly!" Bo stood in front of Victor as though he was going to protect the detective. I remained there as Victor's legs wobbled slightly; therefore Shasta remained by my side. "He's our friend now!" Bo added.

"Friend?" Riccio gasped for air. "Have you gone completely _crazy,_ you silly baby? He's our prisoner: _our enemy_!"

Bo blinked, shocked that Riccio had called him a baby. His face darkened.

"Stop it, Riccio!" Hornet interrupted, taking Bo's hand. "The ropes are stupid. We may as well must lock him in. He's a bit too fat to climb out of the bathroom window anyway, don't you think?"

Riccio didn't answer, only folded his arms and huffed. "We'll see what Scipio has to say about this!" he said suddenly. "Maybe you'll listen to _him."_ He shot me a pointed look, which I returned with a stony face.

"Oh, so just because we're together means that he's in charge of me?" I hissed. He glared at me.

"Rae," Prosper soothed. I took a deep breath and sighed. "And that's only if Scipio turns up," he added.

"What?" Mosca asked, getting to his feet. "I thought you were going to meet him."

"We waited for two hours by the newsstand," Hornet said gloomily, "but he never came."

"Well, well," Victor murmured, kneeling down in front of the radio again. "Well, well, well. But I hope you didn't forget my tortoise."

'No, we even brought him with us," Prosper said slowly. "What was that 'well, well, well' supposed to mean?" Following Prosper's last question, I narrowed my eyes at Victor, even though I knew the truth already. He pointedly ignored me, shrugging and tightening another screw.

"Spit it out!" Riccio barked at him. "Or your tortoise has just had its last meal."

Victor turned around very slowly. "Aren't you a charming little fellow?" he said sarcastically. "How much do you _really_ know about your leader?" He shot me a glance. I clenched my jaw and was silent, staring at a tile on the floor as I leaned against a dirty wall. Prosper shot me a look, too. Hornet opened her mouth, but Victor held up his hand. "Yes, I know, he's not really your leader. I got that. But that wasn't the question. So, once more… How much do you know about him?"

Everyone looked at each other.

"What should we know about him?" Mosca asked quietly. "None of us talk much about the past. Scipio grew up in an orphanage, just like Riccio. He did tell us about it once. He ran away when he was eight and since then he's been looking after himself. He lived with an old thief for a while who taught him everything he needed to survive. When the old man died, Scipio stole the best gondola from the Grand Canal and laid the old thief in it. Then he let him drift out on to the lagoon. Since then he's been by himself."

I saw my reflection in the cracked mirror—a pained smirk was on my face. It disappeared into a grimace. Scipio was a good story-teller; but it hurt to know how hard the others would take it when they learned it was just that: a story.

"And goes by the name of the Thief Lord," Victor said. "So he lives by stealing things… Which means you do too."

"As if we'd tell you that!" Riccio said coldly. "And what if we do? You could never catch Scipio, even if you tried a hundred times. No one can match him. Barbarossa gave us four hundred thousand lire for his last loot. What do you say to that?"

Mosca elbowed Riccio's side, but it was too late.

"Barbarossa, that old scoundrel. Well, well," Victor said under his breath. "So you know him too. You know what? I bet my tortoises that I can tell you where Scipio stole those things."

Riccio squinted at him suspiciously, and Prosper's stare was burning a hole in me. He knew something was up, that I knew more than I was letting on… He was smart, and no matter how much he liked me he knew something was off.

And now, was he guessing that this was it?

"So? It was in all the newspapers, that's no big deal," Riccio said. Mosca gave him another shove, but the hedgehog was far too worked up to notice.

"In the newspapers?" Victor lifted his eyebrows. "Oh, you probably mean the break-in at the Palazzo Contarini?" He laughed. "Did Scipio tell you he did that?"

My sneakers were sliding on the tiles; I was pressing myself so hard into the wall that I was sinking lower and lower… My fists clenched. Any moment now something would go wrong. Bo was holding Hornet's hand, taking it all in, hurt and confusion etched into his face.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Riccio shouted. He looked like he wanted to attack Victor, but Mosca and Hornet held him back.

"It means," Victor answered calmly, "that your Scipio may be a clever fellow and quite a crafty liar, but he's definitely not who you think he is."

Losing his temper, Riccio freed himself from Hornet and Mosca. Prosper managed to get a hold of him again; after Riccio had punched Victor in the nose.

"Stop it, Riccio!" Prosper shouted. He had Riccio in a headlock.

"Yeah, don't punch unless you do it right! Keep your elbow in!" I put in.

Prosper gave me a poisonous look and then looked back at Victor. "Let him finish. And you," he barked at the detective, "can stop talking in riddles! Or I'll let go of Riccio, and have Rae _and_ Shasta attack you."

"What a threat!" Victor grumbled. "Bo, please hand me your handkerchief."

Bo quickly pulled a grubby rag out of his pocket.

"Fine, let's talk straight," Victor agreed, wiping his nose. At least it wasn't bleeding. "How did you meet Scipio?" Without looking at the others' baffled faces, he gathered a few screws and threw them into Mosca's toolbox.

Riccio had turned as red as a tomato.

"Go on, tell him," Mosca said.

"I stole something off him," Riccio muttered. "OK, I_ tried_ to steal something, and he caught me. So I threatened him with my friends and he let me go on the condition that I took him to meet my gang."

"Back then we were living in the basement of an old house," Mosca explained. "Riccio, Hornet and me. It was over in Castello. You can always find a place there. No one wants to live there anymore—it's awful. Wet and cold and we were always ill and we never had enough to eat."

"You may as well say it straight; we were in deep trouble," Riccio snapped impatiently. "'You can't live in a rat hole like this,' is what Scipio told us. And so he brought us here, to the Star-Palace. He picked the lock of the emergency exit and told us to barricade the front entrance. And since then we've been doing quite well. Until you turned up."

"Ok, I get it: Victor the spoilsport." Victor looked at Prosper. "And when Hornet picked up you and Bo," he said to him, "the Thief Lord just fed the two of you as well."

"Scip brought us coats and blankets. And he even gave me these." Bo sat down next to Victor and held up one of his kittens. Lost in thought, Victor began to tickle it behind the ears until is fell asleep, purring.

"What about you?" he asked me finally.

I shrugged, pulling myself up from where I was nearly lying on the floor. "I was running from some sick people who wanted to hurt me when I literally ran into him. We both got knocked out, and when I woke up we got to know each other…then he offered me a place to stay, food, friends and clothes and _life._" I clenched my fists. "He's got a big heart, our Scip, and I don't care if he's a liar. He's just lying to protect us, to keep us out of a lot of trouble." Shasta barked in agreement.

"Why did you say Scipio was a liar?" Hornet asked.

"Forget what I said." Victor patted Bo's lack hair. "Just tell me one more thing. Bo told me you were going to come into a lot of money soon. You're not planning to do something stupid, are you?"

"Bo, why can't you just keep your big mouth shut for once!" Riccio tore himself away from Prosper, but Prop quickly caught him again.

"Don't you talk to my little brother like that, understand?"

"Then you keep a better eye on him!" Riccio pushed away Prosper's hands. "Or he'll blab about everything!"

"Bo, you're not going to tell him anymore, OK?" Prosper said without letting Riccio out of his sight.

But Bo gave his brother a defiant look and whispered into Victor's ear, "We're going to break into a house with Scipio. But we're only going to steal some silly old wing."

"Bo!" Hornet shouted.

"You want to break in somewhere?" Victor was back on his feet immediately. "Are you crazy? You want to end up in the orphanage?" He placed himself in front of Prosper and looked down at him angrily. "Is that how you look after your little brother? Teaching him how to creep into strange houses?"

"That's not true!" Prosper exclaimed. "We're not going! I don't support the stealing, but sometimes we have to. But this—this is _their_ job. We're not going."

"I am!" Bo shouted.

"You're not!" Prosper barked back.

"Stop it!" Riccio shouted, pointing at Victor with trembling fingers. "It's all his fault. Everything was all right, until he started snooping here. And now we're all fighting with one another and we need a new hideout."

"You don't need a new hideout!" Victor boomed. "Gosh darnit, I am NOT going to tell on you! But that may as well change if you're going to do that burglary. Is that clear? What's going to happen to the little one if the _Carabinieri _catch you all? Housebreaking is a bit different from stealing cameras and handbags."

"Scipio knows what he's doing. The Thief Lord doesn't steal handbags." Riccio's voice cracked and broke. "So you can just stop being horrible about him, you blown-up toad!"

Victor gasped. "Blown up toad? Thief Lord? I'll tell you something!" He made a threatening step toward Riccio. Mosca and Hornet moved protectively between them, but Victor just pushed them away. "You've fallen for the biggest toad who ever lived. Why don't you take a little trip to the Fondamenta Bollani number 223? That's where you'll learn the truth about the Thief Lord. Everything you'd want to know, or maybe wouldn't want to know."

I tried not to appear effected by Victor's statement, but Prosper's look was catching on—now Hornet was staring at me too.

"Fondamenta Bollani?" Riccio bit his lip. "What's this? A trick?"

"As if!' Victor turned his back and crouched down next to the dismantled radio again. "Don't forget to lock up your prisoner before you leave now, will you?" He said over his shoulder. "I'll finish repairing this thing now."


	14. Scusi

"I've got to go," I muttered, turning towards the door—but I was stopped by Hornet placing herself in front of me, and Prosper grabbing my arm.

"Where are you going, Rae?" Prosper asked, his eyes narrowing.

"I'm going to find Scipio," I answered shortly. "Without you guys." I tried to pull my arm away, but Prosper's grasp tightened. I looked at him in disbelief. "You guys actually think you can keep me from going alone? You're welcome to come along after me, but _I_ am going first. By myself." I looked at Bo and smiled at him gently. "Take care of Shasta for me, right Bo?" I asked.

He nodded firmly and latched himself onto Shasta's collar. "See you later, Rae," he said cheerfully.

I smiled and ruffled his stiff hair. "Thanks buddy," I said. Then I looked at my arm and back at Prosper. "_Let me go, Prosper,"_ I said coldly. When he hesitated, I took his fingers and pried them off me. "_Ciao_," I muttered, and then slid under Hornet's arm.

* * *

I stood on Scipio's balcony, waiting for him to open the doors. Finally, five minutes after I knocked, I heard footsteps and Scipio brushed aside the curtains. His hair was neatly combed and his immaculately white collar was unbuttoned as if he'd only just returned from a formal event or something. He smiled at me nervously, opening the door. "What's wrong, Rae?" he asked when he saw my face.

"The others have found out about here," I said quietly. "They're coming."

He stared at me for a moment, his face blank. Finally he closed his eyes and sat down on his bed, holding his head in his hands. "They're going to hate me," was evidently his new mantra. I sat down next to him, throwing my ponytail over my shoulder.

"Only for a little while," I said as I pried his hands away from his face. "They're too thick-headed to realize you're doing all this to help them, not harm them. It'll be alright, Scipio."

He looked up at me and rolled his eyes. "How do you know?" he asked, voice angry.

I looked into his eyes. "Trust me, please," I pleaded.

His gaze hardened and he stood. "Why?" he asked hotly. "Rae, what is _up_ with you?"

I looked at him in confusion. "Um…the ceiling?" My attempt at humor didn't faze him.

"Something's different about you, like you know more than you're letting on. It's like…like you're able to see the future!" His dark eyes were frustrated as he paced in front of me. "You're not telling me something important." His gaze turned accusing and he put his hands on my shoulders, kneeling down to look into my eyes.

_Oh God,_ I thought to myself miserably. _Lost puppy. Why'd I have to fall for someone who could look like that?_

"Rae. I've trusted you with everything about me, more than _anyone_ in the world knows. I understand if you don't trust me…but… A Truth for a truth?" He shook his head, sending his hair into his eyes. Ha, see the future. Right…but it was a good guess. I suppose, in a way, I _could_ see the future. Or more appropriately, _read_ the future.

_Should I tell him the truth?_

_No. Not now…maybe closer to the merry-go-round, but not now._ "Scipio…I think you've been kicked in the head a few too many times," I muttered.

He looked at me for a long time. A smile tugged at his lips and he shook his head. "I'm being stupid," he sighed, relaxing his posture and leaning back against my legs.

I shook my head. "No. You're right that there's something…more to me…" He looked up at me and waited. I hesitated. "But... I swear I'll tell you, just not now," I finally said. "I promise."

He nodded and was about to say something when the doorbell rang. Twice. It reverberated throughout the entire house, and made us both jump. "It's them, isn't it?" Scipio's voice had risen in anxiety, his entire posture showing how worried he was.

"Yeah," I confirmed, and we listened as a maid scurried down the stairs to answer the door.

"_Buonasera,_ Signorina," Prosper said. "Do you happen to know a boy called Scipio?" we heard Prosper's voice, muffled by the distance between us, ask. Scipio had a death-grip on my hand as the maid replied,

"What is this? Some stupid prank? What do you want with him?"

"So, it's true?" We could hear the shock in Prosper's voice. "He lives here? Scipio?"

"I think I'd better call Dottor Massimo," the maid said.

Scipio shot up. "No!" I hissed. "Wait."

"I'm sure Scipio would like to see us," Bo's voice said. "We were supposed to play today."

"Play?" The maid sounded unconvinced. We heard loud footsteps against the marble floor. Scipio spun around as the maid came up the staircase.

"Hide for a moment!" He pushed me towards a door and threw me inside. I looked around in awe: it was his bathroom and it was _huge._ With lots of marble…

"Master Scipio?" the maid asked from the other doorway. "You have guests."

"Thank you, Anna," Scipio replied. "You may go now."

"Yes, Master Scipio."

The maid's footsteps retreated, and the door to the bathroom was thrown open. Scipio yanked me out; his hands were shaking. "What am I going to do?" he whispered frantically. He was as pale as marble, the fading bruises on his skin standing out vividly against his skin.

"I'll come with you," I said. He nodded, looking slightly relieved. I gave him a hug. "It'll be alright," I repeated.

"You don't have to come," he said after a moment. "In fact, it would be better if you didn't. You need to stay with them, make sure they'll be alright." He stood straight and brushed some of his hair out of his dark eyes. The look in their dark irises wasn't quite that of the Thief Lord's pride and confidence; instead, it was resigned determination.

I grinned. "Back to normal?" I asked.

He shook his head. "No. But I've got to try, right?" I nodded. "For them…" He gave my hand a squeeze and took a deep breath. "I've got to go."

I nodded and walked him to the door. "I'll be right in here," I murmured as he walked out. He nodded, and before his resolve could weaken any more he closed the door and walked downstairs.

I could hear his steps, slow and heavy as he walked down the staircase. Then Bo's running footsteps clattered up to my ears. "Hey, Scip!" he called, stopping. Scipio didn't answer. He made a noise as though he was going to speak, but then hesitated. He would be looking at Prosper now, who would glare at him. I heard footsteps as his father walked past the door to the staircase.

"What are you still doing here?" he asked sharply. "Don't you have a lesson today?"

"In an hour," Scipio replied. His voice was slightly muted, as though he was looking at the floor. His voice sounded defiant, but also slightly wary, as though he had to choose his words carefully to avoid setting off a bomb. Or in this case, angering a bull.

"What are you doing, just standing around there?" Scipio's father asked impatiently. "Take your friends to your room. You know the courtyard is not a playground." Scipio choked on words. Was he going to say they're leaving? Or maybe something different?

In my mind's eye I tried to picture what would happen if they did come up here, but there were too many variations and possibilities that my head began to ache. "Yes, father," Scipio said meekly. His voice was small and I could just see him wincing as though his father had already hit him—even though the Dottore had already turned and walked away down the hall without a second thought.

"Is that your dad, Scip?" Bo whispered incredulously. "Have you got a mom too? Is she pretty? Does she look like you?"

Scipio wouldn't know where to look, fiddling with the sleeves of his stiff jacket. Finally, I heard him make a 'mhm' noise. "Yes, but she travels a lot. She and father are 'separated'…they're going to get a divorce any day now." His voice was almost a whisper; I could only barely hear it. "Don't stare at me like that. I can explain everything. I would have told you soon anyway." He took a long, shaky breath. "W-would—come up to my room," he said, "I'll explain there."

"You may as well explain it to everybody right now," Prosper said. "The others are waiting outside."

"…Bring them in, would you, Bo?" Scipio murmured.

"Alright, Scip."

Bo's footsteps faded away as he ran off towards the door. "So the detective told on me, right?"

"If you hadn't lied to us, there wouldn't have been anything to rat about," Prosper replied.

"The break in—did you guys check out the house?"

"Stop it, Scip!" Prosper shouted. "I bet you've never stolen anything in your whole life!"

Scipio made a strangled sound. "Stop!" he hissed frantically.

"All the loot was probably taken from this house, wasn't it?" Prosper asked, lowering his voice. "What were you thinking, taking on the Conte's job? You've never broken in anywhere. And I bet that when you turn up at the hideout you probably just let yourself in with a key through some door we don't know about. Thief Lord! My god, we were so stupid. Tell me, does Rae know? How do you think she'll feel?"

Scipio never got to answer, because the sound of many approaching feet became louder.

"Oh god," I heard Scipio whisper, and then his frantic footsteps flew up the stairs and down the hall.

"Hey!"

Scipio threw the door open and collided with me. We landed in a tangle of limbs on the floor, and barely managed to get up before the others had started up the stairs. I gave his shoulder a squeeze and then bolted for the balcony. I closed the doors just enough so that if I remained out of view, I could still hear and see for myself what was going on.

The gang came into view, and there was silence. They stared at each other; Scipio, Hornet, Riccio, Mosca, Prosper and Bo.

"What's going on, Scipio?" Hornet whispered.

Scipio drew himself up slowly; his arms were shaking and his hands were white. "It was all for your own good," he said. His voice was wavering, and his eyes were trained on the floor.

"How? How has it done us any good?" Riccio practically shouted. Scipio cringed.

"Keep it down," he whispered. Prosper pushed everyone inside and closed the door behind them.

"You would never have trusted the rich boy down the street—you're prejudiced," Hornet said suddenly. "He had to lie, or else we would die out in that basement." She glared at Scipio. "But that doesn't take away the fact that you _lied_."

"It doesn't matter! We would have found a way; I bet it's all just a game for him!" Riccio wasn't _quite_ shouting, this time. "Hey, let's play street-kid for a while, that sounds fun!'" He tried to mimic Scipio's voice and failed. "And we _fell_ for it!" His eyes were shining with angry tears.

"But the loot…" Mosca's voice sounded very faint.

"Oh yeah, the loot." Prosper laughed out loud. "He probably stole those things from his parents. Thief Lord? Liar Lord, more like."

Scipio's head was sinking lower and lower—he looked ready to die.

"All that mysterious 'I can cope on my own' and his 'I don't need adults'—they're all lies! You must have really had a laugh at us, Massimo!" Prosper accused.

Scipio's fists clenched, his knuckles white. "It wasn't a lie!" His voice was once again the Thief Lord, and not that of a terrified boy. "Do you know what I have to deal with here? You don't! No one feeds me; I have to do it myself or else everyone's fine with me starving. No one cares for me here; the maids do what Father says and Father—" He cut himself short and took another shaky breath. "H-he doesn't care for me at all. I _do_ have to cope on my own, and I do. I _don't _need adults. You guys are so lucky: you don't have a mother who is too afraid of your father to even visit her son. You don't have a father who beats you and shows how much he's ashamed of you!

"Yeah, sure, I steal from my own house. So what? It helps you get by; it keeps you alive and warm!" Scipio's glare pierced right into each and every one of the gang. "I'm trying to get by; I've got it even worse than you. I haven't run away myself because father would send out searches and they'd comb apart the Stella and every hiding place in the city, and they'd find you. I've been doing this for _your_ sake."

Riccio took a step forward. "How could you lie to us?" he was so angry that little or none of Scipio's explanation had gotten through.

"It's not that bad, Riccio," Bo said quietly, reaching out for the hedgehog's hand.

"Stop it you stupid baby! It is that bad, it's worse than _bad_!" Riccio's hand jerked and smacked Bo across the face.

There was a stunned silence. Bo blinked and scrunched his nose. He was perfectly fine, but the gesture had been seen by everyone. Two incredulous and two angry gazes locked onto Riccio, who looked like he was cooling down enough to realize what he did.

"Let's go," Hornet said hotly, snatching up Bo's hand.

"We'll talk later," Prosper said coldly to Riccio, and then pushed him out of the room. Mosca followed, his expression mostly shocked and appalled; he must have been numb inside. Bo looked over his shoulder as he was pulled out.

"It's not that bad, Scip," he called; then Hornet pulled the door closed.

Scipio stood staring at the door for a long time, his hands clenched at his sides, his face white. His shoulders shook, whether with anger or silent sobs I couldn't tell from this angle. I stood from my crouched position, and opened the door enough to slip inside.

He turned to look at me, trying to keep his chin up. His jaw was clenched, but I could see his lips tremble. "How'd I do?" he asked. His voice came out in a broken whisper.

"Shh," I said firmly and wrapped my arms around him. He pulled me close to him, his face hidden in my shoulder. I leaned into the wall so I could hold him and stroked his hair. Outside, loud sobs could be heard. Riccio would be out there…

I sighed as I slid down to the floor and gathered Scipio closer, rubbing his back and whispering soothingly in his ear.

At least Scipio had someone to comfort him.


	15. Penance

"—And what about the break in and the deal with the Conte? Do you want to forget about all that just because the snoop has told us to?" Hornet was asking Riccio as I walked inside. Bo was curled up on his mattress, with his kittens, apparently asleep. Shasta was probably up in my room.

"No, I don't," said Riccio. "He'll only find out about the break-in once it's done. And by then we'll be long gone with our money…_somewhere."_

Riccio's eyes caught Victor's scrawl on the chalkboard again. Then he turned abruptly and vanished into the auditorium. Hornet was about to turn and follow him, when Prop grabbed her arm. "Hold on," he said, "do you still want to steal the wing? Don't you get it? Scipio hasn't done a break-in in his life!"

I leaned against the wall. Neither of them had noticed me yet.

"Who's talking about Scipio?" Hornet asked, crossing her arms. "We'll do it without him. The Conte won't care who gets the wing for him. And once we've got the five million, we won't need anyone. No adults and definitely no Thief Lord. Maybe we should do it tonight. The sooner the better. What do you think? Are you with us?"

"And what about Bo?" Prosper shook his head. "No. If you really want to risk your neck, that's fine. I wish you luck. But I won't do it. My aunt's coming to Venice in two days' time; by then Bo and I will have left the city. I'll try to sneak us on to a ship or an airplane—anything that'll get us away from here. Other people have done it before. It was in the paper a few days ago."

Hornet rolled her eyes. "Yes, and I'm kicking myself for reading it to you. Don't you understand?" Her voice was angry, but there were now tears in her eyes. "That's even more crazy than sneaking into some house. We all belong together now, you and Bo, Riccio, Mosca, Rae and me. We're sort of a family now and—"

"Hey guys, come here!" Mosca shouted from the men's bathroom. "I think that snoop really did repair my radio. Even the cassette's working again."

But Prosper and Hornet didn't react—neither did I.

"Think about it!" Hornet's voice sounded so desperate that it obviously caused Prosper to have second thoughts. "Please!" Prosper sighed and nodded, turning out to find Riccio.

I looked at Hornet. "Hey," I said quietly.

She looked up at me in surprise. "When'd you get here?" she asked.

"Just a few moments ago," I replied, shoving my hands in my pockets. "I couldn't find the courage to go…" I mumbled, feeling a knot in my stomach. The feeling of hopelessness that had emanated from Scipio when I left was seeping into me, chilling my bones and making me feel ill.

"Rae, I'm sorry," Hornet whispered. I looked up at her to see her eyes shining with tears. "It was all true! He really _is_ rich, he has a dad and a mom and he lives in a castle, and he's got maids and all sorts of stuff! He's been lying to us, all of us!"

I knew what that meant. Really, what she was saying was, _I feel like he put a knife through my chest, I don't know what to do, I know you must feel like hell and so do I, and I want to help you feel better, but—_I stopped the thoughts and chewed my lip. That was what _I_ was feeling,

"It's OK, Hornet," I murmured. "It's no big deal. The break in's still going as planned, right?" A nod. "Alright then. We'll go get it and turn it in. Just like homework." The saying was supposed to be like clockwork, but really, I found the situation more like a hard homework assignment. You didn't really want to do it, but you had to. Thinking about homework, though, made me think of home, which made tears prick at my eyes and my lip tremble…

I clenched my fists, fingers digging into the half-healed cuts that they had already inflicted. "I'm going to go to my room," I lied through my teeth, and turned. I walked out and went to where Bo was. He didn't look up at me as I crouched next to him; his eyes were open, glazed over as he lay there. "Hey, little buddy," I murmured.

He made a soft noise of recognition. "Riccio tried to drown my kittens," he said sadly, pulling the sleeping bundles of fur closer to him. "He tried to throw them into a canal because Scipio had given them to me."

I heard shouting, and I recognized that it was Prosper's raised voice. I could just barely make out the gist of what he was bellowing; he was reprimanding Riccio for trying to drown the kittens and for slapping Bo, and calling Bo names. He was being a good big brother.

I felt guilty that I hadn't really been a good big sister to my own siblings.

"Bo…you've got to understand why Scipio lied—the others don't understand yet, but someday they will," I found myself saying.

He looked up at me. "Is his dad really that horrible?" he asked. His eyes were wide, waiting for an answer.

I nodded sadly. "Yes, his father is really that horrible—even more than that. He hurts Scipio all the time, and is very mean to him. Scipio's mother and he don't live with each other anymore, and apparently his mom is too scared of his dad to come and save Scipio."

"That's awful... Rae, what's a divorce?"

"A divorce is when two married people decide that they don't want to be married anymore. They go through some steps and then legally they 'aren't married'. I don't know about other people, but I've been brought up with everyone telling me that getting a divorce is breaking God's rules; so Scipio's parents' getting a divorce is double bad…"

"Oh... Poor Scip."

"Yeah. He just wants his dad to love him, to show one, teensy little bit of respect or approval. But I'm afraid he's never going to get that." Bo was sitting up now, listening to me, his expression that of solemn attention. It didn't belong on a six-year old's face. "Scipio has a big heart—he just wanted to help you guys survive. He was going to tell you someday, but he was scared of how the others would take it. And he was right to be scared, because look at them! They hate him now," I explained.

He nodded. "Rae…will he be alright?" he asked.

I smiled grimly. If there was one thing I could be sure of, that was it.

"Yeah, Bo. We'll _all_ be alright."

* * *

Prop fell asleep soon enough after the others had left, and Bo didn't waste a second before sneaking out after them. I waited until Prosper looked like he was about to wake up, and then woke him myself. I decided to bring Shasta with me. He had been locked inside all day, and he deserved to go on a walk.

We rushed out of the movie theater—the moon was high above the city, illuminating the gray wisps of fog that floated through the empty alleyways with a pearly glow.

Prosper ran without a care, his mind set on finding his brother. His steps rang out loudly on the pavement, and it only served to help spread the slight anxiousness that had been creeping up my spine. "We have to catch up with them before they climb over the wall," he puffed. "Before they break into the house." I knew he was thinking of images of police carrying off Bo, taking away Mosca and Riccio, and dragging Hornet by her stinger-braid.

The Accademia Bridge was _extremely_ slippery in the fog. High above the Grand Canal, Prosper fell and grazed his knee. He fought for his breath as he pushed himself up, and before I could offer a hand, he had started off again on shaking legs.

Soon there was only one more alley go to before we'd be stumbling into the Camp Santa Margherita. Ida's house was on the right, nearly at the opposite end of the square. My asthma was really starting to kick in, and there was a stitch in my side. I was gasping for breath and I cursed all causes of asthma. _I hate asthma…Why'd my lungs have to be all weird…stupid genetics…stupid…_

Prosper didn't spare one look at me before running up to the door and pressing his ear against it.

I held my breath, trying to still my pounding heart and soothe my aching lungs. My heart was in my mouth; and my ears and my throat. Every frantic beat sounded like a crash of thunder to me. But I knew there wasn't a sound to be heard.

After a few steps through the pitch-black darkness the way became lighter. I saw Hornet's rather petite figure sitting on the wall to the garden. She looked down at us. "Where's Bo?" Prosper hissed. "Why did you take him with you? Bring him back here right now!"

"Calm down!" Hornet shushed. "We didn't bring him along. He followed us and then threatened to wake up the whole Camp Santa Margherita if we didn't help him over the wall. What else could we have done? You know how stubborn he can be!"

"Is he inside?"

"Catch!" Hornet threw him the rope she'd been rolling up. Prosper tied it around his wrist and climbed up. While he was slipping and struggling to climb, I found some older, uneven bricks that would make easy climbing. I dug in my fingers and toes, and then scampered up the wall. When I got to the top I slid over and landed crouched on the other side. Then I went around to the gate and opened it enough for Shasta to slip through.

The damp leaves crunched beneath our feet as we made our way toward the house. Mosca and Riccio were already working on picking the kitchen door's lock. Riccio had blackened his face like Hornet. Bo hid behind Mosca's back when he saw Prosper's stony face. "I should have left you with Esther!" Prosper spat at his little brother. "I'm taking you away right now, come on." He tried to pull Bo from behind Mosca's back but Bo slipped away.

"No, I'm staying!" he shouted—so loudly that I nearly jumped out of my skin, Shasta jumped back, and Mosca clamped his hand over Bo's mouth. We looked anxiously toward the top-floor windows. They remained dark.

"Just leave him, Prosper, please!" Hornet whispered. "It'll be OK."

Mosca took his hand off Bo's mouth. "Don't do that again, Bo, alright?" I asked the little angel. "I nearly passed out!"

"Are the dogs here?" Prosper asked. I shook my head. "If Shasta isn't bothered, they aren't here," I explained.

Riccio knelt down again in front of the kitchen door. Mosca shone his flashlight at the lock.

Hornet walked over to Prosper to whisper with him. I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, that she slipped her fingers through his. I turned to hide the smirk that grew on my face. Riccio said a quick prayer as the lock clicked and then pushed the door open. I was greeted with the pain-filled familiarity of a house. A clock ticked. A fridge hummed. We crept inside, the others with expressions of curiosity and inferiority.

"Shut the door!" Mosca murmured. Hornet let the beam of her light wander across the walls. There was nothing terribly strange about the kitchen, or at least not to me. Sure, it was rather fancy, but it was so much like the one at home that I sniffled. I caught myself quickly, though.

We slipped through a door and found that it led into a narrow corridor, just as it was on the floor plan. After a few yards we came to the staircase. On the wall next to it hung masks, looking ghostly in the flickering beams of the flashlights. One of them looked just like the one Scipio had.

The staircase led to guess what? Another door. Mosca opened it a crack and listened. Then he waved us into another corridor. It was a bit wider than the one of the ground floor. A radiator gurgled somewhere, but otherwise there was blissful silence. Mosca put a finger to his lips as we passed the stairs that led to the second floor. The others cast worried glances up there, while mine was a look of scrutiny. I caught a flash of movement down the hall way. I thought that I could see a moving shadow, disappearing into the darkness through a door. Or maybe it was just my imagination?

I knew that it was most likely a sneaker, and I applauded the fact that he wasn't wearing boots.

"Maybe there's nobody at home," Hornet whispered hopefully. The house did feel deserted in a way, with all its dark and empty rooms. The first two doors we passed led to a bathroom and the cupboard that I had found my blanket.

"Now this is where it gets interesting," Mosca whispered as we stood in front of the third door. "This should be the living room. Perhaps Ida Spavento has put her wing above the couch."

I reached for the door, being closest to it, and recoiled almost immediately. The knob turned, opening from the inside.

It wasn't Ida Spavento standing in the open door. It was Scipio. This was the Scipio the others knew. He wasn't wearing the mask, but he was wearing a hat, his coat and his gloves. I snuck a glance at his shoes and saw that they _were _black sneakers.

And, personally, I loved his hat.

Riccio stared at him in shock, but Mosca's face was rigid. "What are you doing here?" he spat, pushing forward to tower over Scipio. Scipio was silent. He was just about to slip around Mosca when the taller boy shoved him in the chest. "You think it's still your job, don't you? You lying piece of garbage, you've had a great time, stringing us along, haven't you? The Thief Lord! Well, this may be quite an adventure for you, but we need the money. And that's why we're going to deliver the wing to the Conte. Is it in there?"

Scipio shrugged, his face impassive.

Mosca pushed him roughly aside and disappeared into the room. Scipio staggered and caught himself quickly. "How did you get in here?" Riccio grumbled at Scipio. Scipio regarded him through hooded eyes.

"It wasn't hard—otherwise how would _you _have done it?" came his nearly emotionless answer. "And I'm telling you, I will give the wing to the Conte. You can have all of the money, but now leave!"

"You leave!" Mosca appeared behind him again. "Or we'll tell your dad that his fine son likes to creep into houses at night!" His voice had grown so loud that Hornet pushed between them. Scipio stepped back nimbly, but Hornet had to shove Mosca away.

"Stop it!" she whispered. "Have you forgotten where we are?"

"You can't take anything to the Conte, Thief Lord," Riccio murmured, his voice soft and yet filled with disgust. "You can't even send him a message because we have the pigeon!"

Scipio chewed his lip, his eyes searching mine. He had completely forgotten about the pigeon. My shoulders twitched, hinting at a shrug. He ducked his head; what I took as a nod.

"Come on," Mosca urged, ignoring Scip. "Let's keep looking. Prosper; you and I will take the left door. Hornet and Riccio—you take the right."

"What about me?" I asked.

Two glares settled on me. One was from Riccio, and one was from Mosca. "Why don't you go snog your boyfriend?" Mosca said with loathing in his voice. My mouth fell open in shock. I didn't know he felt that much hostility for me.

"And keep him out of the way," Riccio added. Scipio remained silent, motionless, and watched after them. His only movement was to brush the back of his hand against mine, to which I responded by giving his hand a tight squeeze. Mosca, Riccio and Hornet had already disappeared behind the doors when Prosper turned back.

"You'd better go home, Scip," Prosper said quietly. "The others are really angry."

Bo remained silent, his uncertain gaze locked on Scipio. "And you?" Scipio asked softly. But when Prosper didn't answer, he turned and ran up the next flight of stairs.


	16. Snow that Melts Like Tears

Prosper's gaze fell and he sighed, taking Bo's little hand in his. "Come on, Rae," he said, and then we walked into the dark room.

I tuned out Mosca, looking around at the faint outlines of the photos. When the others came in, I tuned them out also. Thus ignoring the world, I managed to position myself in a way that I was in front of Bo and Prosper. The reason for this was that I didn't know if Ida's gun actually worked—I had forgotten that little detail. I didn't want to take chances, though. Bo squeezed my hand.

"The wing's _got _to be upstairs," Mosca whispered.

Suddenly the little room was filled with red light. We turned around in surprise (well, I was already facing the right direction). Ida stood in the doorway, wrapped in a thick winter coat, holding her rifle under one arm.

"I do beg your pardon," Signora Ida Spavento said, pointing the gun at Riccio, who was standing closest to her, "I don't quite recall having invited you."

"Please! Please don't shoot!" Riccio whimpered. Bo's grip on my hand had tightened, and I could tell that Prosper was holding him tightly.

"Oh, I don't really intend to shoot," Ida said, "but you will understand that I had to fetch the old gun when I heard you whispering. So, I decide to go out for once, and when I come back what do I find? A gang of little thieves with flashlights, creeping around my house! You should be grateful I didn't call the police."

"Please! Don't call the police!" Hornet whispered. "Please don't."

"Well, perhaps I won't. You don't really look terribly dangerous." Ida lowered her gun, and looked at me, the tallest of the group in here (Even Mosca was a few inches shorter than me). "Ah, hello again. How's your boyfriend?" she asked.

I grimaced. "He's not doing so well, in reality," I replied.

"So these are your little friends," she said, looking around. I nodded. "Were you after my cameras? You could get those easier out there on the streets."

"No, we…didn't want to steal anything valuable. Signora," Hornet said. "Really, we didn't."

"No? What then?"

"The w-wing," Riccio stuttered. "And it's only m-made of wood." He was still holding up his hands, though the gun was pointing at the floor.

"The wing?" Ida shouldered the gun, probably a more comfortable position. The barrel pointed over her shoulder, behind her and towards the ceiling. I saw a few shadows move, and caught the glitter of a dark eye. He could grab the barrel any moment now and just slip it from her grasp…

Riccio put his hands down, and I shifted as Bo peered out from behind me. "Well, well," Ida said, spotting him. "Here's another one. How old are you? Five? Six?"

"Six and a quarter!" Bo said, his usual enthusiasm gone.

"Six and a quarter, oh-ho! You're really very young for a bunch of thieves." She leaned against the door frame.

"He's my brother. I don't like this but we've got to keep him alive somehow," Prosper said, his voice cold.

"What am I going to do with you now?" Ida asked him. "You break in to my house, you try to rob me… What do you know about the wing?"

"So you have it?" Riccio's eyes were wide.

"What did you want with it?"

"Someone asked us to steal it," Mosca muttered.

"_Asked_ you?" Her face was shocked. "Who?"

Before anyone could answer, a gloved hand had pulled the rifle out of her hands and had its barrel pointed at her nose. "My client wishes to remain anonymous," Scipio said, his voice icy. "Now move and let them leave."

"Scipio, what are you doing?" Hornet called out, her expression horrified. "Give that gun back!"

"I've got the wing, Rae," Scipio said to me, obviously the only one out of the group who'd listen to him. "It was in her bedroom."

Riccio exploded at the mention of Scipio having the wing. "Oh you-you—you lying piece of scum!" he raged. "Give it to us and go crawl back to your posh palace and your filthy rich daddy!" Scipio winced with every insult, as though he had been slapped by the words.

"Scipio? Who's that now?" Ida asked, crossing her arms.

I couldn't help but give a wry smile, a feeling of affection swelling in my chest. _"That's_ my boyfriend," I stated. Ida raised an eyebrow at me.

"Well, he _is_ pretty handsome," she said, looking Scipio over with an amused eye.

"Oh _Lord_." He rolled his eyes in exasperation and gave me a look that plainly said, _What the heck is up with you girls?_

"Yes, I know. He has wonderful eyes," I said, grinning at him. He looked up at the ceiling for a moment, obviously in a _Why me?_ And then he looked back at Ida, his gaze hardening.

"Oh, now put that gun down," Ida said. Scipio took a step backward. "There are a lot of mysterious stories associated with this wing. Did your client tell you about them?"

Scipio ignored her. "If you're not going to come with me," he called to the others, "then I'll go alone. And I won't share the money with you." His gaze darted from my face, to Prosper's, to Bo's. "Are you coming or not?"

At that moment, Ida stepped forward, grabbed the barrel and yanked the rifle out of Scipio's hands. "That's enough!" She said. "That thing doesn't work anyway. And now, give me back my wing."

It was wrapped in a blanket and Scipio placed it on the floor in front of Ida, not knowing what else to do. He didn't say anything, and I felt a bubble of pride come up through me. Truthfully, in this part of the book, he sounded a bit like a brat. But now, here… I smiled.

He hesitated as he got up, his fingers trailing across the exposed wood of the wing. Any of us would have done the same thing if it had been us, felt the wing that had caused us so much trouble lately. "Get your hands off it, you crazy old toad!" Riccio snapped.

Scipio stared at him as he straightened up. "What's wrong with you, Riccio?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Just shut up!" Mosca shouted. "You've completely lost it—waving a gun around like that!"

"I was never going to shoot!" Scipio retorted, hurt that anyone would even think that. "I just wanted us to get the money—I said it before, I was going to give it all to you anyway; you said yourself how much you need it!"

"Whoa, whoa," I said, intervening. I caught Riccio as he made a move towards Scipio. "Watch it. All of you!" I barked at Mosca, who had made a threatening step towards me. "You may be bigger muscle-wise, and stronger, but I'm more skilled. I can take on you guys, you can't take me." He considered this and stopped. "Alright, now _stop it._ Let's just focus on the matter at hand—we'll deal with your hurt feelings later."

"The money?" Ida murmured to herself. "Of course! How much did your client offer you for my wing?"

"A lot," Hornet said truthfully. She took a hesitant step forward and stood beside Ida. The wing's slightly tan paint was faded and cracked, just like the wing in the Conte's photograph. This one, however, still showed sprinklings of gold.

"Tell me his name," Ida asked, replacing the cover and holding it as she stood. "You tell me his name and I'll tell you why he wants to pay so much money for a piece of wood."

"We don't know his real name, but he calls himself the Conte," Riccio answered.

Scipio shifted uncomfortably.

"What are you staring at, Thief Lord?" Mosca shouted at him. Scipio winced. "You think we shouldn't tell her? Why not!"

"_Thief Lord?"_ Ida raised her eyebrows. She gave Scipio a glance full of mockery and gentle amusement. He saw it and his eyes dropped to the floor, his cheeks reddening. "Anyway, I need some coffee. I suppose you kids can't wait to get out of my house, right?" She looked around at us enquiringly. Nobody answered. Only Hornet shook her head. "Fine, then you can keep me company," Ida said. "If you want, I'll tell you a story. A story about a lost wing and a mysterious merry-go-round. You may stay too," she said as she walked past Scipio, "but maybe the Thief Lord has more important appointments to keep?"

* * *

Scipio came downstairs with us to Ida's kitchen but he kept his distance from the others, instead choosing to lounge elegantly against the doorpost as we gathered around the table. The wing lay on the table in front of us.

"It looks beautiful," Hornet said as she stroked the wood. "It's the wing of an angel, isn't it?"

"Angel? Oh no," Ida said, taking the espresso pot from the stove, the coffee still gurgling as it touched the table. "This is a lion's wing." Bo nodded empathetically.

"A lion?" Riccio looked at her in disbelief. She nodded.

"Indeed." She fetched the sugar and a cup for herself. She got some juice and some glasses for the others. There was one for Scipio and me too. I took one of them, poured some juice, and offered it to Scip. He took a sip.

"So, what about that story?" Mosca asked as he poured himself some juice.

"I'm coming to that," Ida said. She took a sip of her coffee, and then leaned back. "Have you ever heard the story of the merry-go-round of the Merciful Sisters?"

The others shook their heads, but I nodded silently. Scipio's eyes flickered to me.

_(A/N: Alright, this part is the story of the Merry Go Round. You don't necessarily have to read this. It's mostly for those who need a refresher or haven't read the book yet… [Why they would be reading this if they didn't read the book escapes me])_

"Doesn't the orphanage in the south of the city also belong to the Merciful Sisters?" Riccio asked.

"Exactly! About one hundred and fifty years ago—so the legend says—a rich merchant gave a very valuable gift to the orphanage. He had a merry-go-round built in the courtyard. It had five beautiful wooden figures on it. There's still a picture of them above the door to the orphanage. In it, a unicorn, a sea horse, a merman, his mermaid and a winged lion do their rounds beneath a colorful wooden canopy. Back then, some wicked tongues claimed that the rich man wanted to relieve his conscience because he himself had once brought the unwanted child of his daughter to the orphanage. Others, however, disputed that and said he was simply a warmhearted man who wanted to share his wealth with the poor orphaned children. Whatever the case, soon everyone in Venice was talking about the amazing merry-go-round—and that's saying something with as many wonders as this one. The rumor soon spread that, because of that merry-go-round, magical things were happening behind the orphanage's walls."

_(You can read again.)_

"Magical things?" Riccio looked at Ida wide eyed, just the way he looked at Hornet when she read to them.

Ida nodded. "Yes, very strange things. People said that a few turns on the merry-go-round made adults out of children and children out of adults."

For a few moments there was silence, the only sound was the sound of Shasta's breathing. Then Mosca laughed. "And how's that supposed to work?"

Ida shrugged. "I wouldn't know. I'm just telling you what I heard."

Scipio leaned forward. "What's the wing got to do with this merry-go-round?" His voice was a husky whisper, laden with curiosity and longing. It hurt to know how much he wanted to be an adult. The thing that pained me most was the fact that I didn't know...didn't know if he wanted to be an adult more than he wanted _me_.

"I was just coming to that," Ida replied as she poured Bo some more juice. "The sisters and the orphans weren't to enjoy their present for long, as it turned out. After only a few weeks the merry-go-round was stolen. The sisters had taken the children on a day trip to Burano and when they returned they found the gate had been forced open and the merry-go-round taken. It was never seen again. However, in their hurry, the thieves had left something behind…"

"The lion's wing," Bo whispered.

"Precisely. It lay unnoticed in the courtyard until one of the sisters discovered it. No one really believed her when she claimed it was a piece of the original merry-go-round. So she kept it, and after her death it ended up in the loft of the orphanage. And that's where I found it many, many years later."

"What were you doing up there?" Mosca asked.

"I used to play up there by the dovecotes," Ida said. "They're very old. They date back to when people still used pigeons to send their letters. That used to be quite popular in Venice. Whenever rich Venetians moved to the mainland during the summer, they'd use pigeons to send their messages into town. I used to play a game where I imagined that someone was keeping me prisoner up there and that I would send my pigeons for help. And that's how, one day, I found the wing, in the middle of the pigeon droppings. One of the sisters who knew the old story guessed where it had come from and told me about the Merry-go-Round. When she realized how much I loved the story, she gave the wing to me."

"You played in the orphanage?" Hornet asked. "What were you doing there?"

Ida sighed. "I lived there," she answered. "I was there for more than ten years. They weren't exactly my happiest ten years, but I still visit some of the sisters from time to time."

Hornet looked as if she were seeing her face for the first time, suddenly recognizing another lonely child. Then she reached into her jacket and pulled out the photo the Conte had left for them. She pushed it toward Ida. "Behind the wing there—don't you think that looks like the head of a unicorn?"

Ida bent over the photograph. "Where did you get this?" she asked. "From your client?"

Scipio walked over to the kitchen window, closing his eyes as the cool breeze caressed his face. I felt my eyes sting at the look of ecstasy on his thin face. "The merry-go-round can turn you into an adult?" he asked.

"Yes, after a few turns on it. It's a strange story, don't you think?" Ida placed her mug in the sink. "But your client could probably tell you more about it than I can. I think he must know where the merry-go-round is now. Why else would he have asked you to steal my wing? It probably doesn't work without the lion's second wing."

"He's quite old," Prosper said suddenly. "He can't have much time left to get the merry-go-round to work."

"You know, Signora…If this wing really belongs to the lion, then you don't really have much use for it. So you might as well give it to us, right?"

Ida smiled. "I might, might I?" She opened the door to the garden to let more air in. She stood there for quite a while, her back to us. My vision was blurring, the horrible thought of Scipio riding the Merry-go-Round gnawing at my chest. I felt my lips tremble and I bit down on them. Hard. "How about a deal?" she asked suddenly, turning around. "I let you have the wing so you can take it to the Conte and he can pay you for it, and in return…"

"Here comes the catch!" Riccio muttered.

"In return, we will follow the Conte when he disappears with the wing. Perhaps we can find the merry-go-round of the Merciful Sisters. I'm saying _we_ because I will be coming with you. That's the deal." She looked eagerly around at us. "So, what do you say? I won't ask for any share in your reward. I already make more money than I can spend with my photographs. I'd just love to see the merry-go-round once. Go on, please say yes!"

The others didn't look very enthusiastic.

"I'm not so sure…the Conte's pretty odd. What if he catches us? I think he could get pretty nasty," Mosca said.

"But doesn't this photo make you curious?" Ida closed the door again and went back to her chair. "Don't you want to see it? It's supposed to be very beautiful."

Mosca still wasn't convinced. "The lion in St. Mark's Square is beautiful too. Why don't you just look at that?"

Scipio spun around. He couldn't ignore the others' hostile glares, but he tried his best. "I think we should take her offer," he said. "It's very fair. You get your money and even if the Conte realizes we're following him we can always outrun him."

"I keep hearing _we,_" Mosca growled. _"We_ are finished, you lying toad. You don't belong with us anymore. You never belonged with us, even when you pretended you did!"

"Yeah, you just go back to that fancy house you live in!" Riccio sneered. "We _real_ orphans don't want to play with the Thief Lord anymore!"

Scipio stood still, biting his lip almost as hard as I bit mine. Hornet looked miserably at the table and Bo pushed his head under Prosper's arm as if he wanted to hide.

"Could someone explain to me what's going on here?" Ida asked.

I burst out, "I'll tell you what's going on here!" Then everything that had happened lately came tumbling out, and I only managed to keep myself from spilling everything about _me._

When I had finished and the tears were brimming in my eyes, Scipio said, "I'm not going back." He sounded as choked up as I was. "I will never, _ever_ go back there! That's it. I don't need them! If that merry-go-round really exists, then I'll be on it faster than the Conte, and I'll only get off when I'm at least a good head taller than him! If you don't want to take the deal then I'll do it alone. I'm going to find that merry-go-round so nobody can treat me like a stupid pet animal ever again!"

After Scipio's outburst the kitchen fell so quiet that everyone could hear my near-silent sobs.

"Rae, what's wrong?" Hornet asked quietly. I shook my head frantically, my eyes wide to make her understand that no one should know that I was crying again. She nodded and looked back at the others who were still shocked my Scipio's outburst. "I think we should accept the offer too," she said. "Anyone against the agreement?"

Nobody moved.

"Then it's decided," said Hornet. "Signora Spavento, you've got yourself a deal."

As we walked out of the house, Scipio walked over to me. "Rae, are you alright?" he whispered. His eyebrows were drawn together, his dark eyes worried and warm. That only made it worse. I shook my head and held his hand tight.

"Nothing," I whispered.

Bo was so sleepy that Prosper had to carry him till we reached the Stella. Of course, as soon as we reached it he was wide awake again so we let him capture Sophia. While the pigeon pecked at the seeds in his hands he carefully carried it to the emergency exit. "Take her to the canal before you let her go, Bo!" Mosca whispered, holding the door open.

When she disappeared and Prosper asked "the day after we sent our message? She can't be flying far then," and Scipio said, "Pigeons can fly hundreds of miles in one day. This evening she could easily be in Paris or London," I stood back, letting the cold wind buffet my face and numb it. "I read that somewhere," Scipio said timidly.

"The Conte's not likely to live in Paris!" Riccio said scornfully. "Who cares anyway? The pigeon's on its way and you'd better go home now."

Scipio gave a start. He looked at Prosper who looked away. Scipio turned away again. He didn't seem sure where else he could look for help. Bo pretended nothing was wrong as he fed his kittens.

"Riccio's right, Scip," Hornet whispered. "You have to go back. You said it yourself; we can't have your father tearing up the entire city because his son has run away. I mean, how long would it take him to think of this place? He'd get half the police force in Venice out here in a second."

Scipio nodded. "I see," he said, his voice soft and sad. "And I know that at least four of you are grateful for what little I've done. _I _showed you this place._ I_ gave you money and warm clothes. _I_ even brought you the mattresses—and I nearly drowned doing it. When it got cold, _I_ brought you blankets and heaters. Do you think it was easy to steal all those things from my father?" The last thing was directed at Mosca and Riccio.

"Of course it was easy!" Mosca gave Scipio a look of loathing. "They probably suspected the maid or the cook or another of your slaves!"

Scipio didn't even redden. He just remained silent.

"Bingo!" Riccio exclaimed nastily. "Got it in one!"

"Do you mean they suspected someone else?" Hornet asked Scipio in shock.

He swallowed. "My governess."

"And? Did you at least defend her?"

"How?" he asked her angrily. "You don't know my father, Hornet! If he ever caught me stealing a _look_ at his things he'd make me walk around with a big sign around my neck saying: _Kick me, I'm a thief!_ And then he'd do it!" His voice cracked. "Over and over again, until I couldn't move for a month. He does that anyway, so maybe I'm just a chicken and should not care. Tell me, you two, if someone did that to _you_ would you do anything different? What's that? I don't hear you!" His fists clenched, but his voice had fallen to a miserable whisper, and his eyes didn't leave the ground.

Bo, despite his efforts to tune them out, had heard it all. "Did they lock her up, like in a real prison?" he asked.

"No," Scipio murmured, even his voice relaxing at the thought. "They couldn't prove anything. They let her go, that's all. If I hadn't taken those darn sugar tongs, they would never have noticed it. I took most of the stuff from the rooms that are never used anyway… So now I don't have any friends, not even a governess anymore."

The others looked at him as if he had snakes growing out of his nose. "Jeez, Scip!" Mosca muttered.

"I only did it for you!" Scipio bellowed. "Have you forgotten how you used to live before I looked after you?"

"Get lost!" Riccio screamed back at him. He shoved Scipio in the chest. "We can do without you! We want NOTHING to do with you! We should never have let you back in here again!"

"You shouldn't have let _me_ in here?" Scipio was yelling so loudly that Bo put his hands over his ears. "Who do you think you are? Face it Riccio, you're just a little kid who got let down—once! Think of how many times I've been let down! By my father, by my mother, by _everyone in the damn world!"_

"Oh, sure!" Riccio yelled back. "Why don't you go tell on us and make us see how 'bad' your stupid rich father is, you little--!"

I'm sorry, I can't let you hear the rest of his sentence.

Scipio went for him. The two of them got so entangled that the others (and Mosca) needed me to step in. I ducked a punch and lashed out. My fist connected with something and the fight seemed to dissolve. I had hit Riccio's nose. When Bo saw that Riccio's nose was bleeding he let out such an anguished sob that everyone turned to comfort him. Hornet was there first. She put her arms around him and stroked his hair which was already almost back to its normal color.

"Go home, Scipio," she said sadly. "We'll let you know when we're meeting the Conte. Perhaps we'll have a message by tomorrow afternoon. One of us will go to the Redbeard's right after breakfast."

I tuned Riccio out and turned to Scip, trying to look at his feet instead of his face. His cheeks were stripped raw from Riccio's bad fingernails. He turned and walked slowly past the rows of red chairs, running his fingers along the red velvet and looking intently at the embroidered stars on the curtain. He walked very slowly. I followed him.

"I'll be back later," I whispered to the others. "Don't stay up waiting."

Nobody seemed to hear me.

* * *

**3rd POV**

Scipio turned to Rae a few alleys away. "Rae, what's wrong?" he asked. His voice was hoarse, and he was about to cry himself, but this time he felt he had to be the strong one out of the two of them. Her eyes brimmed with tears as she looked up at him. Her cheeks were rosy and her lip was bleeding from biting it so hard; yet it still quivered.

"I don't want you to be a grown-up," she whimpered.

He felt an angry pang inside him. "Why not?" he asked her harshly.

The tears clung to her eyelashes, almost spilling now. "How much do you care for me?" she asked. "Enough to not ride on the carousel?"

He saw fear in her shining, swimming eyes. _She doesn't want to have to follow me,_ he realized. _She doesn't want to grow up so fast..._ He was silent, wondering at how much he wanted to be an adult, and weighing it against how much he felt for Rae. She stared at him in shock, and then a sob ripped from her throat. She turned away from him, taking his silence as an answer. He shook himself and reached for her, wrapping his arms around her shaking form.

"Rae—"

She cut him off, pushing away from him. "Just leave me alone!" she shouted. The tears splattered from her eyes, hissing as they hit the freezing cobblestones beneath their feet. The anger and raw hurt on her face burned him as surely as if she had pushed his heart into a fire. "I don't need you!"

"Rae!" he exclaimed, his dark eyes flashing. "You and I both know that's not true! I need _you _too! You know that I love you!"

She stared at him for a moment, her face blank. "No, I don't," she whispered. Her eyes were streaming, and he wanted to hold her close and brush the tears from her cheeks, like she had done for him.

"Rachel," he murmured, his voice like velvet. "Yes you do. You and I both know it." She sobbed and turned from him again. "Rae…I know it's tough," he continued, "and I know that you just want to give up. You want to curl up in the corner and cry until you pass out—then never wake up."

His words didn't hurt; instead they caressed her, as surely as though he had been pushing the tears from her eyes. It was infuriating. "How do you know?" she demanded, rounding on him.

His eyes became pained. "Every time they yell at me, or he does something… That's how I feel," he said.

For a few moments they stood there, the moment frozen around them. Tears splattered loudly against the ground, running down her face and across her trembling lips and down her neck. He looked down at her through his long, dark lashes, eyes deep and somber. He knew he couldn't say anything more; it was totally up to her now. Even though he kept his thoughts to himself, his eyes spoke clearly.

Her face twisted and the floodgates burst. He held out his arms and she fell into them, her shoulders heaving with racking sobs. He smiled to himself sadly, resting his face in her hair. It wasn't that he liked her crying; it was that he had been the tough one, and this time he had a chance to repay her for every time she had been the one to hold him.

He pulled her to a wall around a canal and sat down, holding her tightly as she curled up in his arms. His cheek rested against hers, feeling her silky skin cold and wet. Her dark hair curtained both of them from the outside world—and neither of them noticed three pairs of eyes watching them.


	17. Exchange

Rae stared out the window of Barbarossa's office. She wasn't paying any attention to the other's conversation, sunk deep in her own thoughts, face set in a frown.

"_You know that I love you!"_

_Bah humbug,_ she thought grimly. They were only kids. And truthfully, they hardly knew each other. Wasn't it a bit early for them to be even _thinking_ the word love? She sighed to herself. She really needed to work on holding back the emotional moments. What was she running on?—at least four meltdowns already. Ugh… But really, it had felt nice to be held and comforted—

She stopped that thought right away and watched it crash and burn.

Hornet, Bo and Prosper kept looking at her, too. Not just the normal looks either; it was like they knew something and it had changed their opinion of her. And for some reason she didn't like it.

She scowled and followed the others out of the shop, letting herself get lost in the flecks of white that fell down from the sky. When they stopped at one of the bridges to watch the water swallow the snow, she leaned against the wall. She pondered over it all—her choices.

So she decided to follow the story; _so what?_ How could she change it for the better? She remembered how at the end of _Thief Lord_ Scipio had changed his name. Scipio Fortunato. The 'fortunate one'. She wished she had thought about that more; he had been happy as an adult. What was she _thinking_? Maybe it would be better if the story was the way it was…

She frowned again, not noticing the others opening the letter. She did have a plan—a hopelessly romantic one. Looking at it now she couldn't help but roll her eyes. She had been planning on spilling the beans about her true past, right when Scipio was making the choice to get on the Merry-Go-Round. Then she would give a little speech on how if he rode it she wouldn't follow. Then he would choose to stay a kid and then Barbarossa would come and they would trick him into riding the Carousel and everything would go as the book said—until the end. In the end, somehow, she would either write him—Scipio and she—out of the story and back into her world (if that was possible).

It was way too sappy in her opinion.

Her eyes fell to the gray waters and she stared at her reflection, expression blank at the dark circles and dull eyes. She glared at herself. Why did she have to be such a sentimentalist? "I wished I had never come here," she murmured to herself.

And then it hit her.

She reached into her pocket for her notepad and her pen. Holding both in front of her, she thought about how to phrase it.

'_Rachel opened her eyes and found that she was in her room. There was no one there but Shasta who was sleeping soundly on her stomach. She smiled to herself; maybe she shouldn't write so much before bed.'_

That sounded good. She was just about to set her pen to the paper when she noticed someone standing next to her. "Rae, whatcha doin'?" Bo asked innocently.

The look on his face stayed her hand. "Nothing," she said quickly.

He cocked his head to the side. "M'k. 'Cuz we're leaving!'

She looked up to see that, indeed, Prosper and Hornet were murmuring to each other as they walked away. She smiled and took Bo's hand, putting her things back into her jacket. "Let's go."

It was quarter to one in the morning when Mosca moored his boat at the end of the last bridge before the bay. Riccio jumped ashore and tied the boat to one of the wooden stakes sticking out of the water. Behind them lay a seemingly endless trip through canals Prosper had never seen before. The houses were just as old if not quite as magnificent as those in the center.

There were just the four of them in the boat: Mosca, Riccio, Prosper and Rae.

Hornet had given Bo hot milk and honey after dinner and he had emptied two whole mugs without becoming suspicious. Then she had settled down with him on her mattress, her arm wrapped around him and she had read from his favorite book, _The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe._ During the third chapter, Bo had already nestled his head against Hornet's chest and begun snoring softly. On cue, Prosper and Rae had quietly crept away with Riccio and Mosca. Hornet had bravely tried not to look too worried as she waved good-bye.

"Can you hear anything?" Riccio peered into the night. Some of the windows were still alight and their glow reflected on the water's surface. The snow looked strange in the moonlight, like icing sugar on a model city. Prosper gazed down the canal. Ida had wanted to come in her own boat…and she was supposed to be picking Scipio up on the way.

"I think I can hear something!" Riccio climbed deftly back into the boat. Mosca wedged an oar against the wooden pier to stop the boat from rocking.

"About time they turned up!" Prosper whispered, looking at his watch.

By now the sounds of an engine came quite clearly through the night and soon a boat drifted toward them. The boat was much wider and heavier than Mosca's. It had a black finish, just like a gondola. Behind the wheel sat a giant of a man and behind him, hardly recognizable under the shawl wrapped around her head, was Ida Spavento. Scipio was sitting by her side.

"At last!" Mosca called out quietly as the boat came along-side his. "Riccio, cast off!"

Scowling in Scipio's direction, Riccio jumped back aboard. "Sorry, Giaco lost his way," Ida said. "And the Thief Lord was also not very punctual." She got up and carefully handed a heavy parcel to Prosper: the lion wing, wrapped in a blanket and tied up with a leather strap.

"My father had some of his business partners over," Scipio defended himself, his voice indignant. "It wasn't easy to sneak out."

"Wouldn't have been such a great loss if you'd missed it," Riccio muttered, not bothering to keep very quiet. Scipio scowled.

Prosper sat down at the stern of the boat, holding on tightly to the wing. "It's probably best if you wait with your boat over there, where the canal flows into the bay," Mosca instructed Ida. "If you drift out any further the Conte might see you and the whole deal could be off."

Ida nodded; her face was pale with excitement. "I had to leave my camera at home. The flash would have given us away…But these"—she held up a pair of binoculars—"may come in handy. And if I may make a suggestion." She eyed Mosca's boat. "Then we should use my boat to follow the Conte—should he sail out into the lagoon after the transfer."

"Into the lagoon?" Riccio's mouth dropped wide open in horror.

"Of course!" Ida whispered. "He'd never keep the merry-go-round secret in this city. But there are lots of islands out there in the lagoon where nobody ever goes." Prosper and Riccio looked at each other. Out on the lagoon in the middle of the night…They didn't like the sound of that.

Rae finally looked at Scipio, who had been glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. He looked excited to be out here, if a bit chilled. She looked away after a moment. Her hair got caught on her eyelashes and whipped against her freezing cheeks. It was freezing out here in the wind…but she wasn't quite sure that was what was making her gut clench.

"Fine by me!" Mosca said. "My boat's OK for fishing, but it's not up to a chase. And who knows what kind of boat the Conte's got? As soon as we see him heading for the lagoon, we will row back to you as quickly as possible and then follow him in your motorboat."

"That's how we'll do it." Ida blew into her cold hands. "How wonderful! I haven't done anything this crazy in a long time!" she sighed. "A real adventure! If only it wasn't so cold."

"Enough talk!" Mosca picked up the oars. "We've got to go."

"Scipio's got to come in our boat," Prosper interjected. "The Conte negotiated with him. He'll be suspicious if he's not with us."

Riccio pursed his lips, but he said nothing as Scipio climbed on board. The bell of Santa Maria di Valverde was just chiming one o'clock as they rowed out into the Sacca della Misericordia. There were just a few lights glimmering on the surface of the water. Ida's boat stayed behind like a shadow, hardly more than a black speck against the dark outline of the shore.

---

The Conte was already waiting for us.

His boat was a sailing boat, with a red lantern on the stern. The other lights glared at us, attempting to blind us. "A sailing boat!" Mosca whispered in awe. "Ida was right. He must have come from one of the islands."

"No doubt about it," Scipio murmured, putting on his mask. "But the wind's in our favor. We'll easily follow him with the motorboat."

"Out into the lagoon?" Riccio looked green. "Oh _Lord! _Lord, lord, lord!"

Prosper said nothing. He held onto the wing. The cold wind had died down and now Mosca's boat glided smoothly across the water, hardly creating a ripple. It was peaceful out here; the water looked like black satin ink, glimmering with silver linings. To Riccio, however, the beauty was lost. He held onto the side, petrified in fear that the boat would fling him into the water if he so much as looked over the edge.

The Conte was standing at the stern of his boat. He was wearing a large, ugly gray coat. He didn't look as frail as I had imagined from his voice. His hair was white, but he was a tall straight-backed man, and appeared to—probably—be very strong. Morosina stood behind him, smaller and dressed all in black, her face hidden under a hood. I envied her of her cloak.

When Mosca rowed alongside she cast a line with a hook toward Prosper to keep the boats from drifting away.

"_Salve!"_ the Conte called out towards us. "I imagine that you are just as cold as we are, so let us complete this transaction as quickly as possible."

"Fine, here's the wing." Prosper handed Scipio the parcel and he in turn carefully offered it to the Conte. The narrow boat rocked unsteadily and he nearly fell. I started, but the Conte caught the wing—steadying Scipio.

"That's it!" I heard him whisper. The old man was stroking the painted wood not unlike Gollum and the One Ring of power. "Morosina, just look at it!" He sounded like a little boy, showing off a caterpillar or a worm he had found.

His sister went up to him and pushed back her hood. She wasn't much younger than the Conte, and she wore her white hair in a tight bun. "Yes, that's it," she said, her eyes alight. "Let's give them their money."

"You deal with it," Renzo said, wrapping the blanket around the wing again. The woman handed Scipio an old bag and I resisted the urge to knock it out of his hands, into the cold water.

"Take this," she said sternly, "and use the money to find yourself another job. How old are you?" She eyed him. "Eleven? Twelve?"

Scipio's face was blank, pale as ivory under his black mask. "With this kind of money, I can be so grown up as I want to be," he said. He took the bag and put it on the floor between him and Mosca.

"Did you hear that, Renzo?" Morosina laughed as she leaned against the deck rail. She eyed Scipio with gentle amusement. "He wants to be grown-up. The _ingenuo _dreams of children!"

"Nature will soon grant your wish," the Conte said solemnly. He was wrapping the wing in a oilcloth. "We wish that it wasn't true for us. Do you want to count your prize, Thief Lord?"

Scipio put the bag on my lap and opened it. "Oh my God!" Mosca whispered. He took a bundle of bills and began to count them with an expression of disbelief. Even Riccio got up, forgetting his fear of water. He remembered, though, as soon as the boat began to rock, and sat down.

"Has anyone ever seen so much money?" he wondered aloud.

I ran my fingers across a bill. It _did_ feel the same as the real thing. Scipio held a note in front of his flashlight, counted the wad and then he gave Mosca a satisfied nod.

"Seems to be all there," he called up to the Conte and his companion. I squinted against the glare of the navigating lights as Scipio moved out of the way. He had been blocking them previously.

Morosina bowed her head. _"Buonritorno!"_

The Conte stood next to her and Prosper threw him the rope. He caught it. "Safe return—and the best of luck for the future," Renzo said. Then he pushed off.

Prosper and Mosca took the oars and pulled away from the Conte's boat, and the wing. The mouth of the canal where Ida was waiting for us seemed an eternity away. We were silent. "Go on, tell me: How did it go?" Ida asked excitedly as soon as we had climbed aboard. "I could only see that he's got a sailing boat."

"Everything's sorted. We've got the money and he's got the wing." Scipio wedged the bag with the money under his seat. "There was a woman with him. And you were right; they _are_ sailing out to the lagoon."

"I thought so!" Ida gave Giaco a sign, but he had already started the engine and we were now heading out into the bay.

"He's turned off the red lantern," Mosca shouted, "but I can still see the boat!"

Giaco grumbled something unintelligible. He held his course as if there were nothing easier than following a boat in the moonlight.

"Have you counted the money?" Ida asked.

"Sort of," Scipio answered. "There's definitely a _lot_ of it."

"Can I have a look through your binoculars?" Mosca asked Ida. She handed them to him. "He's making very slow progress but he'll be out of the bay soon."

"Don't get too close, Giaco!" Ida called.

"Don't worry, Signora."

* * *

After another century of silence, I was nearly asleep. I had gotten used to the roar of the boat, so now it was only a constant growl at the back of my mind. Scipio (who had mysteriously ended up sitting next to me) was holding my hand. Finally he leaned over to me. I had been expecting it, but he'd been silent for longer than I'd thought he'd be. His breath was hot against my freezing ear and cheek. "Hey," he murmured, his voice halting. "About the other day…"

"Yeah, I know."

"Yeah…"

"Look, Scipio…There's something I need to tell you."

His dark eyes widened and he pulled back from me, letting go of my hand. "It's not _that_ bad." I rolled my eyes. "Don't worry." I caught his hand again and tried to warm his fingers: they felt like icicles.

"If it's not that, and we know what we both feel about the other day…Then what is it?" he asked.

"I'll tell you later. This isn't the best place for it."

I'd thought long and hard about it. I'd made a decision.

"Isola Segreta?" Mosca exclaimed. "That's the island where nobody goes—and those who do never come back!"

"That's right," Ida said. "It's not easy to find a boatman who will bring you there. The island's supposed to be bewitched. Terrible things happen there. It's said nobody who's ever visited the Isola Segreta has ever lived to tell about it…So _that's_ where the merry go round has ended up, has it?"

Loud and threatening barks sounded from across the water.

"Two dogs!" Mosca whispered. "Big ones."

"Haven't you seen enough yet, Signora?" Riccio's voice was shrill and wavering. "We've followed him all the way to this stupid island, that was our deal! _Please_ tell that silent man to take us home!"

Ida didn't' answer, she was still watching the island with her binoculars. "They're going ashore," she murmured. "Ah, so that's what your Conte looks like. From what you said I imagined him to be older. And there, next to him… That's the woman Scipio told me about. Who are they? Are there still Valaresso on that island?"

"No," I replied. "They're not Valaresso." She nodded, not bothering to question me, too absorbed with the island.

"There's a pier," Scipio whispered. He was leaning forward so far that he wasn't even sitting anymore. His right, free hand was lightly dancing against the wood seat, and the one that I held was limp, sliding out of my grasp. It was like he was hypnotized. "—and steps leading up to a gate in the wall."

"Who's that on the wall?" Mosca's voice was hoarse with fear. "I see two white figures."

"Those are statues," I whispered. "Stone angels—beautiful!"

"Now they're opening the gate…Wow, those dogs are _big_!" Ida said.

Even without binoculars we could see them. They were huge, white mastiffs, as big as young horses. Suddenly as if they smelled us, they turned to face the water and began to bark so angrily that Ida jumped and dropped the binoculars. Prosper tried to grab them, but they slipped through his fingers and landed in the water with a loud splash.

The sound cut through the night like shattering glass; it almost hurt my ears.

Everyone ducked except Giaco. "They've heard us, Signora," he said calmly. "They're looking this way."

"Oh my God!" Ida whispered. "Keep your heads down, you too, Giaco! I think she has a gun!"

"Oh no!" Mosca moaned, pulling his jacket over his head. Riccio was curled up on the floor, sobbing. "We all glow in the dark like moon cheese; I told you this was a bad idea. I said we should turn around."

"Riccio, be quiet!" Prosper hissed.

The mastiffs were barking furiously. Morosina's voice could be heard now, clearly angry—and then a shot. When he saw the flash of the gun, Prosper ducked down. I followed suit, dragging Scipio with me. Riccio moaned.

"Giaco!" Ida's voice sounded sharp. "Turn around, _NOW!"_

Without a word, Giaco started the engine.

"But what about the merry-go-round?" Scipio tried to get up, but I pushed him down again.

"The merry-go-round can't bring back the dead!" Ida shouted. "More speed, Giaco! And you, Thief Lord, keep your head down! Keep him safe, Rae."

The engine roared and the icy water splashed into the boat as Giaco left the Isola Segreta behind us. Soon it was swallowed up into the night. "That was close! I'm sorry I talked you into his madness, Giaco, why didn't you stop me?"

"Nobody can stop you, Signora!" Giaco answered.

"Doesn't matter," Mosca said, trying to reassure himself. "At least we've got the money."

Scipio wore a bleak expression, as though part of him had been literally torn out and left back on the island. "Come on, just forget it," Prosper said, giving him a nudge. "I would have liked to see the carousel too, but it really doesn't matter."

"But it's _there_," Scipio said with such a longing I'd never heard before. "I'm _sure_ it's there!"

"If you say so," Riccio threw in, "but why don't we count the money?" Since Prosper, Scipio and I didn't move to help, Mosca and Riccio got to work. They were still counting as the lights of the city began to glitter across the water.

Only when we were back in the Sacca della Misericordia did they finally close the bag. "Seems to be all there," said Mosca. "More or less. All these notes are difficult to count."

"Good," Ida sighed. "Then I'll drop you off by your boat. I do hope you have a warm place to sleep. Say hello to the little on for me, Prosper—and Hornet too. I…" She started to say more but Riccio cut her off, as though the words were going to burn his lips.

"Scipio's going somewhere else. Perhaps you can take him home."

Prosper hung his head in embarrassment. Mosca played intently with the buckles of the bag and avoided Scipio's gaze. Scipio looked at Riccio in surprise.

"Of course," Ida said, turning to Scipio. "The ceasefire is over… Do you want to go back to the Accademia Bridge where I picked you up, Thief Lord?"

Scipio shook his head. "Fondamenta Bollani," he said quietly. "If that's OK."

"I'll come too," I said. Scipio's face was pale as he stared at the city. Prosper watched him, taking in Scipio's pale face, his look of misery and the tight lips—probably holding back the tears.

Ida seemed to sense the tension. "Fine! Giaco, first to the boat and then to the Fondamenta Bollani!" she said quickly.

The snow started to fall again as they entered the canal where we had left Mosca's boat. IT was a light snow. Tiny snowflakes drifted across the water. They got stuck to my eyelashes, a pleasant—yet icy—weight on them. The whiteness seemed to lighten the darkness a bit, so now it was pretty easy to see.

"Now that the wing's gone," Ida said, "I'll probably be staring at a blank wall all night. I'll be asking myself whether it has really returned to the lion's back, and who the mysterious Conte and the gray-haired lady really are." She tightened her coat around herself. "It's safer to think about these things in a warm bed."

Mosca's boat was swaying gently in the water right where we had left it. A cat had settled on the wooden bench. She jumped away as soon as we came close. _"Buonanotte!" _Ida said as Prosper, Riccio and Mosca climbed aboard their own boat. "Come and visit me sometime. Don't wait till you're all grown up and I don't recognize you anymore. And if you ever need my help, let me know. Don't tell me—you're rich now, but you never know."

"Thanks," Mosca mumbled. "That's really nice—Really!"

They were already climbing out when Prosper turned to Scipio again. Scipio was sitting there, his face averted, staring up at the dark houses. "You can come any time, Scip," Prosper said.

For a moment Scipio didn't answer. But then he looked up. "I will," he said. "Say hello to Bo and Hornet for me." Then Prosper turned and left.


	18. Captured in an Ice Tomb

Scipio had asked Ida to drop him off about two streets away from his father's house. He wanted to talk to Rae, and then when she left—assuming she did—he wanted to walk the last few steps along the snowy bank of the canal. The cold air gave him the feeling of being strong and free—as long as he didn't think of the others, or of the big house that would soon make him feel small and weak again.

He and Rae stood still and silent, watching Ida's boat disappear. Neither of them moved, slowly becoming covered in white. Everything seemed so quiet…

Rae turned to him and sighed, putting her hands in her pocket. "I haven't been treating you very well, have I?" she murmured.

"What?" He frowned at her.

"Think about it, Scipio. I've been treating you like Christine would treat Erik, like how Marius treated Eponine. Sorry, bad examples…Hm…" She bit her lip for a moment, making a three-sixty on her heel. "The fact is, I haven't been treating you like a human being. I've been treating you like a character in one of my stories." She looked at him for a moment, a smile playing on her lips. "I've been treating _myself_ like I'm a character. For a while now, somewhere in my head I'd accepted that this wasn't reality. That this was just a dream, or just me going crazy. But now I _have_ to accept that this is real; alternate reality or not, it still is reality."

"What are you saying? That you've been using me?" Scipio's hands clenched, and something in his chest tightened. It was suddenly very hard to breathe, like his lungs, his heart; everything had suddenly been tied together with a rope, constricting their movements.

"No!" She exclaimed. "No! But in a way I have…Not the way you're thinking, though." She sighed again, and shook her head, sending some of the snowflakes flying, but the others were still caught in her locks. "I still feel for you, it's just that before I was clouding that with the idea of a story… An idea of fiction, a work of art—someone else's work of art. Now, however…" She smiled and the tight feeling in his chest dissipated. "Now, even if this isn't _my_ reality, this is a form of it." She laughed suddenly. "In short, I've only just accepted that this—you—are real."

He was still confused. He felt as though there was something more she wanted to say, that she was keeping back. "Rae…" He paused.

She shook her head. "I've got to go now," she said.

"OK," he answered and then reached out. She met him half-way and gave him a hug, her small, spidery hands tight around his thick coat. He pulled away enough to look at her face. She looked much softer in the snow, with white, sparkling flakes clinging to her dark lashes, casting a halo on her hair. He smiled at her and—unconsciously—he squared his shoulders.

"Goodnight, Scipio," she said, and then walked away through the crisp white blanket.

He turned and began to scrape patterns into the snow with the toe of his shoe. Then he crouched down to draw a wing, a mask, and a lion with his fingers.

When he lifted his head he saw the police boat. It was moored just a few steps away from his father's house.

Scipio stood. Thoughts raced around in his head. Did this have something to do with the others? With him? He winced slightly, already feeling the rain of blows.

"No!" he whispered, trying to calm himself. He could hardly manage to get the key into the lock. Opening the door gingerly, trying not to make a sound, he saw a light was burning between the stone columns as usual. The courtyard was empty of people. Holding his breath, Scipio crept toward the stairs. He was a master creeper—he had scared Hornet, Rae… The most cautious people. He'd never been caught—until now.

His foot had barely touched the first step, when suddenly he heard voices from above. _No_, not from Heaven. He lifted his head guiltily and stopped dead, his lips parted in shock. Two policemen were coming down the stairs with Hornet. She looked tiny and fragile between the two huge men. His father was standing upstairs by the balustrade. He frowned as his lazy eyes fell on his son.

"Gentlemen!" boomed the voice Scipio loved to imitate because it sounded so much more impressive than his own. "As you can see, the matter seems to have resolved itself. My son has decided to come home after all, even if it is at a highly inappropriate time. But it proves he had nothing to do with these children hiding in the Stella."

Scipio bit his lip hard and looked up at Hornet. She slowed down as she saw him.

"Do you know this boy?" one of the policemen asked. He had a very narrow mustache. "Go on, speak." Hornet shook her head.

"Where are you taking her?" Scipio was surprised at the sound of his own voice, high and shrill.

The policeman with the mustache laughed while the other one grabbed Hornet's arm. "So, you think you have to protect her? You're a little gentleman. Don't worry; we didn't take her away from anybody. She's a naughty girl who doesn't even want to tell us her name. We came here because we thought your father might learn something from her about your disappearance."

"Our maid called me away from my reception, completely hysterical, Scipio!" Dottor Massimo called down at him. "Because she didn't find you in your bed at midnight. And just as I got here the police called to tell me that they had found a gang of street kids in the Stella. You know, the movie theater I had to close? Of course, I immediately explained to the gentlemen here that your disappearance had nothing to do with that. And what childish fancy drove you out of the house in the middle of the night? Were you running after some stray cat again?"

Scipio didn't answer. He didn't care. He was using all of his will to not look up at Hornet. She had looked so sad and lost. This was not the Hornet who had driven him crazy with her teasing and stinger-tongue.

"I just wanted to have a look at the snow," Scipio finally said, remembering the snow on Rae's lashes, the snow disappearing into the black waters, the snow covering the city as Prosper and the others left.

"Ah, the snow! It drives everybody mad, not just the children," the mustachioed policeman said with a wink at Scipio.

"Let me go, I can walk by myself!" Hornet spat at the other policeman. She jumped down the last step and pushed past Scipio with her head down. "Bo's with his aunt!" she hissed.

"Hey, what's the hurry?" the policeman soothed, taking her arm again. _"Buonanotte, _Dottor Massimo!" the _Carabinieri_ called out as they left. Hornet didn't turn around again.

Scipio slowly walked up the stairs. He heard the front door slam.

His father looked at him in silence.

Who had given away the secret? What about the others? What about Rae? What if? Why, who, when? What now? Scipio's mind raced.

"So, where did you really go?" His father scrutinized him from head to toe. There appeared to be genuine concern on his face, but then Scipio stopped himself. His father was probably asking himself what he had done to deserve this stupid creature he called his son. He wasn't as big as him, as interesting, as 'disciplined', 'controlled', 'dependable', or 'reasonable'. He wasn't like him at all; a reality that constantly irked him.

"Why do you care?" Scipio muttered bitterly. "I just wanted to see the snow before it got dirty with people stepping on it. And I ran after a cat. Mine is feeling better, she's eating again."

Dottor Massimo frowned. "As long as this silly snow is causing you to behave even more childishly than usual, your door will be locked. Is that understood?"

Scipio was silent.

"God, how I hate that stubborn face! If you only knew how stupid you look." Scipio's father took a step forward.

"What have you got against me, Dad?" The words slipped out of his mouth before he had a chance to bite them back. Instead he clamped his teeth together. His father seemed shocked at the pleading in his tone. Seeing that he'd had an effect, no matter how simple it was, Scipio continued. "I've only ever wanted you to care, to really _truly_ care about me, but you're always so condescending! You never care a damn thing about what I feel, always about how _you_ look, how I'd make a great deal of money for the family—for _you_—if I was just like _you._ It's all about _you!_"

His voice had risen, but not in pitch. He was surprised at himself; he wasn't actually angry. Just so…_so_ tired. His shoulders slumped and he turned. "No. For God's sake, no!" he shouted at the wall. "Do I have to know that girl to feel sorry for her? Can't you just be _human_? I thought you were such an important man in this city—if you were so _dependable_ and _considering_, why didn't you spare her a second glance?"

"Go to bed, Scipio," his father answered sternly. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"You have no idea how much I _do_ know, _Father._" He didn't like giving his father his back like that. His spine was vulnerable; if the Dottore hit him then he could cause some very, very serious damage. Regardless, he continued to walk. "Goodnight, Father," Scipio murmured and continued to walk.

"Scipio, I—"

"Save it, Dad. It's too late." Just before he walked into his room he turned his head. His father looked different now, not the man who had beat him just a few nights before. Scipio didn't feel the happiness that he thought he should feel; there was a look of genuine, _fatherly_ concern on the man's face. "You're not my father. You never were. And now that you want to be…It's too late."

He closed the door behind him and for once he didn't bother locking it.

His near-empty room was silent and dark. The windows were closed tight, but the drapes were pulled aside to allow a view of the white balcony. The picture on his nightstand stared at him, and he thought, distantly, that all three of them looked happy. Like a family.

And so Scipio stood there and cried.

* * *

I had spent the last few days trying to find Shasta. He'd run off when the police had gotten Hornet and Bo, and when I finally found him he was rather skinny and very wet. By the time I'd gotten to Ida's, Hornet was already there and they were in the middle of dinner.

They welcomed me back and put another spot in for me at the table. Riccio and Mosca fooled around so much that Victor grumbled that it would have been quieter with a bunch of monkeys at the table. Prosper never said a word, hardly looking up from the table. Hornet held his limp hand in hers, her face anxious.

Shasta fell asleep under the table.

After dinner, while the others went to play cards with Ida and Victor, Prosper went upstairs. Ida'd found a couple of air mattresses so that they wouldn't be crowded on the beds that Riccio had pushed together. Hornet had claimed one and pulled it by the wall, piling her books around it. Riccio and Mosca hadn't dared to leave any one of her novels behind. Prosper had dragged the second air mattress to the window so he could see Ida's garden and the canal behind it. The blankets smelled like lavender. He curled up in them but couldn't fall asleep.

There was a window seat, and I sat down on it. He didn't look up at me. "It's going to be alright, Prosper," I said finally. He made a soft noise. "Trust me," I said.

"You said that no harm would ever come to us. You promised!" He glared at me half-heartedly.

"I know, and I said _harm._ I haven't broken that promise. Bo's going to be fine. And we're going to get him back, don't worry. Just stop moping, OK? You're making me depressed."

He didn't answer.

It was eleven at night when Victor finally said goodbye. Prosper pretended to be asleep. He lay with his face to the wall and waited for the others to doze off. I pretended to be sleep, also. When everyone else was fast asleep, Prosper got up. The floorboards creaked under him, but the others didn't wake.

I followed him out, avoiding the squeaky places he'd stepped on. The door squeaked gently as Prosper opened it. He stepped out into the darkness, and I followed. He went to the canal, and carefully climbed into Ida's boat. He sat down on the cold wooden bench and looked up at the moon.

"What should I do?" he asked. "Tell me, what should I do?"

The moon did not answer.

I sat down next to him, and we stared upwards in silence. The tears ran down his face silently. His arms wrapped around himself, and he slowly slid down to the bottom of the boat. He curled up there, and he fell asleep after a while. I pulled my legs up to my chin and waited through the night. A motorboat came down the canal towards us.

The engine stopped and I heard Scipio curse under his breath. His boat bumped hard against Ida's.

He smiled with such happiness when he saw Prosper and I that I smiled back. "Look who's here!" said my Thief Lord. "Well, if that's not a coincidence. I've come to pick you up!"

"Pick me up? And take us where?" Prosper jumped to his feet. "Where'd you get the boat?"

"It's my father's," Scipio answered. He patted the boat like it was a horse. "It's his pride and joy…unlike me. And now it's got its first scratch. Also unlike me. I've got too many to count."

"How did you know we were here?" Prosper asked.

"Mosca called me." Scipio looked up at the moon. "He told me about the Conte's trick and Bo." Prosper wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "I'm sorry," Scipio said gently. "We shouldn't have left him alone."

Prosper didn't reply.

"Prop? Rae?" Scipio cleared his throat. "I'm going out to the Isola Segreta. Will you come with me?" Prosper stared at him. I pulled myself into Scipio's boat, yawning. "The Conte cheated us." Scipio lowered his voice. "He took us for a ride. Either he gives us the real money or he lets _us_ take a ride on that merry go round."

Prosper shook his head. "You don't really believe in that story, do you? Forget it—forget the money. So we were cheated? Tough luck. Riccio's already working out how he can spend the fake money. And nobody wants to go back to that island, not even for a whole bag of real riches."

Scipio fiddled with the string of his mask and looked at Prosper. "I want to go there," he said. "With you. You're my friend. I want to ride that merry go round. And if the Conte won't let me, then I'll run away anyway. Come with me, Prop? What have you got to lose?"

Prosper stared at his hands. "Come on Prop. You don't have to ride…Just come with us," I said gently. He thought silently for another moment, and then suddenly jumped into Scipio's boat.

* * *

**Prosper**

We'd been out in the freezing air forever, searching for a way past the wall that surrounded the island. I was starting to lose my patience, but Scipio lost his faster than I. "That's it," he whispered. "We're climbing over." He switched off the engine and then dropped the anchor into the water.

"How are we supposed to get to shore?" I asked as I regarded the dark span of water between us and the island. "We can't swim in that! It's _got_ to be freezing!"

"No, of course we're not going to swim!" Scipio said, carefully stepping over Rae, who was nearly asleep. "Give me a hand here." There was a hatch by the steering wheel from which Scipio pulled out a dinghy and two oars. It was amazingly heavy for a piece of _rubber_—it seemed to be made out of an elephant.

Rae helped us shove it overboard, and as she climbed into the dinghy she refused to take Scipio's scarf. I could tell, though, that she was cold; her breath didn't seem as white as ours did, which meant that it was already colder than ours.

We hid the boat in the reeds growing at the bottom of the wall. From standing next to it, the wall seemed even higher—and that was saying something. I craned my neck to try and see the top. "I wonder if only mastiffs guard the gate," I murmured…

We were all out of breath when we sat next to each other on top of the ledge. Our hands were grazed but we'd done it and made it to the top! There was a huge overgrown garden lay in front of us. The hedges were all white with snow and ice. Rae seemed dazzled by it. "Wish I'd brought my sketch-pad," she said to me, smiling.

"Can you see it? The merry-go-round?" I looked around, but I couldn't see anything but a huge gloomy house between some trees.

Climbing down the wall was even harder than climbing up. We landed in thorn bushes and when we managed to get out of that we found ourselves in the middle of a hedge maze.

"The merry-go-round's got to be behind the house," Scipio muttered. "Otherwise we would've seen it from up there."

"Right," I whispered. "Just how do we get to the house, then?"

Rae knelt down in the snow and shuddered. "Hey guys," she called quietly. "Look at these." We walked over and saw big, big paw prints deep in the white. Rae put her palm in one of them… And it was dwarfed by the size of the paw.

Oh, joy, right?

"Let's try that way," Scipio said, walking ahead. I noticed that he took the path with the least dog prints.

The path was lined with mossy statues. Some had almost been swallowed up by the thicket, and some had had their faces entirely worn away by the elements. One appeared so suddenly in front of me, with what seemed to be a tortured look on its face that I jumped and fell over into the snow. I heard Scipio curse softly as he found our own footprints again.

I was about to answer when I heard something—and it wasn't a bird this time, I was sure of that. Rae had also heard it; she'd frozen in her tracks, knees bent and tense as though ready to jump out of the way.

I heard panting, short and sharp, followed by a growl; it was low and threatening. I forgot how to breathe.

I turned my head very, very slowly…and there, hardly three steps away as if they'd risen right out of the snow, were two _huge_ white mastiffs. "Don't move, Scip," I found myself whispering. "If we run, they'll hunt us down."

"Will they bite if I shake with fear?" Scipio whispered back, and I heard the touch of biting sarcasm in his voice. It almost made me smile. Almost.

The dogs were still snarling, and they took a step forward, their heads lowered, hackles raised and teeth bared. _My legs are just about to start running whether IJ tell them to or not…_

"Bimba! Bella! _Basta—_enough!" a voice called from behind us. The dogs immediately stopped growling and leaped past Rae and Scipio and I. We turned around to find ourselves staring into a flashlight. The girl who held it couldn't be more than nine, but was probably only seven. She was so small that she could have ridden on the dogs' backs: she only came up to their shoulders.

"What have we here?" She said, and she held her nose up much like Scipio's father. "How fortunate that I like to go for walks in the moonlight. What are you doing here? Don't you know what happens to people who sneak onto the Isola Segreta?" I exchanged a look with Rae.

"We want to see the Conte," Scipio answered. He sounded totally nonchalant, as though there was nothing strange about the fact that we were walking in someone else's garden in the middle of the night. Maybe it was because the girl was smaller than him that Scipio sounded less frightened. Personally I thought the mastiffs made up for that advantage and more. They guarded the little girl as if they'd tear to shreds anyone who came near her.

"The Conte? Well, well, so you like to pay visits at midnight?" The girl shone her flashlight into Scipio's face. The she pointed it at me.

"We had a deal with the Conte," Rae said calmly as she relaxed her stance. "He cheated us. We'd let the matter rest, though, if he lets at least one of us take a ride on the merry-go-round. The merry-go-round of the Merciful Sisters."

"A merry-go-round?" The girl's face was rigid with hostility. "What do you mean?"

"We know it's here, show it to us!" Scipio growled and took a step forward; the dogs immediately crouched and snarled. "If the Conte doesn't let us take a ride on it, we'll go to the police."

"What a generous offer!" The girl looked at us with amusement. "And what makes you think he'd ever let you go? _This_ is the Isola Segreta…you must know the stories. Nobody who's ever visited this Island has lived to tell the tale. Now, MOVE!" She pointed down the path to our left. "That way. Don't try to run, believe me, my dogs are faster than you."

Scipio and I hesitated.

"Do as I say!" the girl shouted. "Or you're dead meat!"

"Come on, Scip!" I grabbed Scipio's arm. Reluctantly, he let himself be pulled along.

The dogs stayed so close behind us that we could feel their breath on their necks. From time to time Scipio would look back to see if it would be worth making a run for it, but each time I tugged on his sleeve mercilessly.

"Caught by a girl!" Scipio moaned. "I'm just glad Mosca and Riccio aren't here."

Rae muttered something along the lines of, _What's so wrong with being caught by a girl?_

"If she really takes us to the Conte," I muttered to Scipio, "then you'd better not threaten him with the police. Who knows what he'll do to us?" Scip nodded and turned around again to look at the dogs.

Soon the house I had seen from the wall emerged from between the trees. It was huge, even bigger than Scipio's. It looked abandoned, even in the usually flattering moonlight. The plaster was coming off the walls and the shutters hung crookedly in front of dark windows. The roof had enough holes in it for the moon to shine through.

A set of broad steps led up to the main entrance. Stone angels leaned down over the balustrade—the salt air had eaten away their features just as it had the coat of arms that hung above the door.

"Oh no, not up there!" the girl grabbed Scipio's arm as he tried to go up the steps. "The Conte will most certainly _not_ see you tonight. You will spend the rest of the night in the old stalbes, over there." She made an impatient gesture at a low building next to the house. Scipio, however, didn't move.

"No!" he snapped, and folded his arms. "You think you can order us around just because you've got these hell-hounds with you? I want to see the Conte. _Now."_

The girl clicked her tongue and the dogs pushed forward. We quickly backed away towards the stable.

"I have a feeling we won't be seeing anyone tonight," Rae muttered.

"You will be seeing the rats in the stables," the girl said, hearing her. "The Conte is sleeping. He will decide tomorrow morning what we will do with you. And think yourself lucky. At least you won't be thrown into the lagoon right away."

Scipio angrily chewed his lip, but the dogs began to growl again.

"Better do what she says, Scip!" I urged as we walked toward the stables. "We've got all night to think about what to do next, and we can't do that if we end up as dog meat. And you won't be riding the merry-go-round then either."

"Okay, okay already." Scipio flashed the girl a vicious look.

"Please enter, gentlemen and miss!" The girl said, opening the stable door. It was pitch black inside and we were greeted by a stench that made all of our faces screw up in disgust. It smelled like old hay—much too sweet and musty.

"In there?" Scipio called. "Do you want to kill us?"

"Would you rather I left the dogs with you?" the girl asked. She put her hands on the mastiffs' huge heads.

"Come on, Scip!" I pulled him into the dark building. A few rats pushed over my feet.

"There should be some old sacks back there," the girl said, shining her flashlight towards a pile of relatively new hay. "They should do for the night. The rats aren't very hungry. There's always enough for them to eat around here, so they won't bother you tonight. You can forget about finding a way out of here—there isn't one. I will also leave the dogs outside. _Buonanotte!_" With that, she shut the door.

There was the sound of a heavy bolt sliding across it. It was so dark in here that I couldn't even see my own hands in front of me. "Prop!" Scip whispered. "Are you afraid of rats? I'm scared to death!"

"I've gotten used to them," I answered. "We had lots of them in the movie theater…" I listened closely—the girl was talking to the dogs outside. She spoke to them with a soft, tender voice as though she were talking to her little siblings.

"How sweet," Scipio muttered in reference to her words.

"Scip? Prop? Where are you—I can't see," Rae muttered. I felt hands groping at my shoulder and took one of her hands, guiding it to Scipio's too—just in time for a rat to pass over my foot towards Scipio, who gave such a start that he nearly knocked both of us over.

"Hold on…Hey, Scip, can you hold my jacket for me?" Rae pushed something past me into Scipio's arms. I felt her elbow brush against mine as she rummaged through the pockets on her jacket. "There!" She clicked something and a flashlight turned on, illuminating her face. "How's that?"

"Thanks, Rae," Scip and I said in relief. We turned to try and find the sacks, and we did but then decided not to sleep on the rat infested ground. I opted to sleep on a large barrel that I'd found and propped up against the wall. The others went to sleep on the hay loft.

I lay down and listened to everything settle back down for the night…

Suddenly I remembered Bo. It was the first time I'd thought of my brother since I'd jumped into Scipio's boat.

I wondered if I'd ever see Bo again.


	19. What's Real?

Scipio and Rae sat across from each other in the hay loft. Prosper was fast asleep under them, and everything was silent.

Scipio watched her fingers move slowly in the moonlight that filtered through tiny cracks in the roof. Her ivory white fingers were stroking a small, rat-chewed doll that she had found in a pile of dust and hay. The doll was rather chilling: she was missing an eye and looked lost and ragged—almost vindictive. He shuddered at the thought; it was much too close to an American horror movie he had once watched…

"You know, this is as good of a time as any," Rae's quiet voice cut through the stillness. "I swear, this time I'll tell you everything."

"Rae," he sighed softly. "We've gone through this _how _many times exactly?"

"I know, I know…But those weren't right…Now is, though," she said and he sighed again, but settled back to listen. "Look, I don't want you to think I'm crazy… First you need to know the truth about what I was doing before you found me.

"I'm not an orphan. Everything you know about me is a lie. I've lived in America for almost all of my life. I have a family: two little sisters and my parents and Shasta too. Earlier the night that you found me I had been in my room, writing about a book that I loved. The book was called _Thief Lord._ I went to sleep and woke up in Venice, ran from some men and then—literally—bumped into you. I had to lie to you; would you ever have let me in if you knew the truth? Even if you did, you'd have treated me like I'm insane."

"Not to say that you aren't, anyway," he gave her a shaky grin. "It's what we love about you." She smiled slightly but then turned serious again.

"I told you I had a family…Well, suddenly I was taken away from them and I didn't have them anymore. I _was_ an orphan, in a strange world where I met _you._ What I said earlier about treating you like a character was true; I did treat you like fiction. I treated you as though you and I were just pawns in my FanFiction, and that was wrong of me.

"Now, though, I know you're real. All of this is real. And you can make your own choices." She leaned forward and her eyes caught the light, reflecting glassy white—like the doll. "If you want to ride on that merry-go-round, it's fine, you deserve the right to choose. I know that whatever decision you make it'll be the right one."

Her teeth flashed through the darkness at his stunned face in a nervous smile. "So…You're from another dimension?" he asked slowly.

"Sorta…I have a theory on that but it's a bit complicated," she said.

"Oh…And so this is real too?"

She shrugged. "Who knows?"

"Yeah…What's real?"

They grinned at each other.

"Exactly."

As they sank back into silence, Scipio's thoughts raced. He wasn't sure whether to believe her. Either she was crazy, or she was pulling a joke on him… Or she was telling the truth. He wasn't sure whether he liked the idea of the second and third option—and he certainly did _not_ like the first. For now...

He'd just play along and see which turned out to be true.

* * *

**Rae's POV**

We woke up to the sound of someone opening the door of the stable. Daylight flooded the room, and I saw spots. For a moment, Prosper looked dazed and Scipio blinked owlishly into the sun. The girl leaning on the stable door brought back the last night's events.

"_Buongiorno_," she said, holding back the mastiffs as they tried to run inside. "I would have left you here for a little longer, but my brother insists on seeing you now." She rolled her eyes. "Boys, so impatient."

"Brother?" Scipio whispered, frowning. We stepped into the open, staying close together instinctively. The big house looked even more run-down in the light of day than it had in the middle of the night.

The girl impatiently shooed us up the steps and hurried past the stone angels with no faces. We stopped between the pillars in front of the main entrance; but I couldn't stop fidgeting. I tapped my foot and bobbed on my heels as the girl opened the door—the mastiffs pushed past and vanished into the house.

The height of the ceiling made both Prosper and I dizzy. I had to plant myself against a wall to bring myself back to earth, and Prosper looked unsteady. The soot-darkened paintings were beautiful, even though the colors had faded. There were horses rearing and angels in flight.

"Move!" Morosina called. "You were in such a rush yesterday, what happened? In there!"

She pointed to an open door at the opposite end of the hall. The dogs' paws slipped and slid on the stone floor as they stormed ahead—we followed them cautiously. Our footsteps rang sharply as we walked over the mosaics of unicorns and mermaids.

The room was dark, despite the open windows. A fire was burning in the huge hearth, and the dogs had settled down in front of it. The whole entire floor was covered with toys: I reached down to pick of a sword—it looked almost real.

Scattered among the dolls, rocking horses and bowling pins were entire countries of tin soldiers, steam engines and sailing ships—outfitted with sailors. At the center, next to a castle, sat a boy. He looked somber as he mounted a soldier onto a horse.

"Here they are, Renzo," the girl said as she pushed us through the door. "They smell of pigeons but as you can see they're intact." The boy lifted his head and observed us. His black hair was cut in a fashion similar to Scipio's, but his clothes looked ancient.

"The Thief Lord… Welcome," he drawled. "Indeed, dear sister, you were right." He pushed the tin soldier and horse into a miniature stable and got up, walking on his toes through the chaos, carefully avoiding crushing anything. "You were also in the Basilica, weren't you?" he asked Prosper and I. We nodded. He sighed. "I apologize for the faux money—it was Barbarossa's idea. I wouldn't have been able to pay you otherwise. You have probably noticed that I'm not very rich, even if I do have such a huge estate." He gestured at the crumbling plaster on the walls and shrugged.

"Renzo," the girl groaned. "What are you going to _do_ with them?"

The boy rolled his eyes. "Just look how those two are staring at me!" he said to Morosina. "Are you wondering how I know all this?" he asked, turning to Prosper and Scipio. "Have you forgotten our meeting in the confessional—or the nighttime rendezvous in the Sacca della Misericordia?"

Prosper took a step back. I heard Scipio's sharp intake of breath.

"The merry-go-round works!" Scipio whispered. "You're the Conte!"

Renzo bowed elegantly, smiling. "At your service, Thief Lord," he said. "And thank you, for without your help in retrieving the lion's wing, it would have just been a broken merry-go-round." His eyes flashed and he gave me a charming smile. "Now, however…You can see…"

"Ask them who told them about the merry-go-round," Morosina threw over her shoulder as she picked her way through the mess. "Was it Barbarossa? I've always told my brother than the Redbeard cannot be trusted." She shook her head and tut-tutted.

"No!" Scipio said quickly. "No, Barbarossa had nothing to do with it. Ida Spavento, the lady who owned the wing before, told us about the merry-go-round…But that's a long story."

"Does she know you're here?" Morosina snapped. "Does anyone know you're here?"

Scipio was about to answer, but Prosper cut him off.

"Yes," he said. "Our friends know, and a detective too. They're going to come looking for us if we don't go back."

"Did you hear that?" Morosina asked, and there was an expression of miserable fear in her eyes. "What are we going to do if someone finds us?" Tears filled her eyes. "I don't want to go to an orphanage! I don't want to have another wasted childhood!"

Renzo handed her his handkerchief. "They gave me the wing," he said, "and I didn't pay them. That's why I'm going to let them take a ride if that's what they want."

He looked at Scipio only now. "It spins slowly at first," he murmured, and his voice was laden with emotion. "You hardly feel a thing. But then…it goes faster, and faster. It feels like you're being pressed into the wood as your bones and your body grows…I nearly got off too late, but this…This"—he drew himself up to his full, nine-year-old height—"Is just how I wanted it. I got back what had been stolen from me all those years ago. While the children of the Valaresso played with all of this"—he threw his arms up and moved in a circle, as though trying to encompass the entire palace—"Morosina and I were forced to scrape the messes from the dovecotes, weed the garden, scrub the floors. We had to weed and hack the moss from the faces of the stone angels in the gardens, polish shoes and door handles. We got up before the master and went to bed long after everyone else was fast asleep. But now the Valaresso are gone, and Morosina and I remain." He stopped, suddenly, and sighed. "And now I find playing with all this quite lonesome. Strange, isn't it?"

"So you only called yourself Conte," Scipio murmured, realization dawning on his face. "You're not a Valaresso."

"No, he isn't," Morosina answered for her brother. "But you… You're from a noble family, aren't you? I can tell from the way you talk, even from the way you walk. Do _you_ have a girl to pick up your clothes when you throw them on the floor? Someone to polish your shoes, make your bed, comb your hair? Someone hardly older than you? You can't have a reason to ride the merry-go-round, so why are you here? If you want the money, it's not here."

Scipio scuffed his shoes against the floor. "You're right, there is someone who picks up my things," he said to a wooden lion at his feet. "And I do have my clothes laid out for me in the morning. I hate it! Everyone treats me like I'm too stupid to put my own shirt on. _Scipio, wash your hands after you touch the cat. Scipio, don't step in puddles. For goodness sake, Scipio, do you have to be so clumsy all the time? Scipio, be quiet! you don't know what you're talking about! Shut up, you little brat, you stupid, immature, ungrateful boy!"_

Scipio looked Morosina in the eye now. "I read Peter Pan in one of my classes. D'you know what? Being a kid is overrated! All you can do is be pushed around and laughed at by the grown-ups. I _do_ have a reason to want on that merry-go-round. I want to ride in the other direction. I want to be grown up. Hear me? Grown-up, grown-up, _GROWN UP!"_

Scipio stamped his foot so forcefully that he crushed one of the little soldiers. "Shoot!" he muttered, bending over to pick up the pieces. He stared at them as if he had just done something truly horrible.

He looked like a child. He looked like a little boy as he stared at the toy, and I realized that the tiny, broken soldier must represent himself in some way. He _had_ been like a soldier; beat and broken and pushed around, ordered and commanded just like a toy to the grownups. And now…Crushing it himself, he could see that he had two choices: Become an adult and leave behind something in him, a big thing in him…or stay as young as he was, stay _who_ he was.

Renzo watched Scipio solemnly.

"I will show you the merry-go-round," he said. "And if you truly want to, you can ride it."

* * *

Morosina didn't come with us. She watched us go, the dogs at her sides.

I could feel Scipio shiver with anticipation and impatience as we followed Renzo into the garden. I found his hand and gave it a squeeze, just to reassure myself that it wasn't a dream. Ever since we'd come here, everything felt so unreal, just like a daydream or a mirage…And I couldn't make out if it was a good or bad dream; fantasy or nightmare.

Prosper was frowning, looking up at the moon as we walked.

Renzo led us to an arbor behind the house. The arbor led to a labyrinth, but Renzo didn't hesitate before he pushed through the overgrown hedges and vines. When I guessed that we were almost there, he stopped and listened. Everyone was silent. Every muscle quivered, tense and ready to bolt. A bell rang in the distance; it sounded if _someone_ was impatient.

"That's the main gate bell—who could it be? The only person I'm expecting is the Redbeard and he's coming tomorrow." He looked worried.

"Barbarossa?" Prosper asked, surprised.

Renzo nodded. "I told you it was his idea to pay you with fake cash. He even procured it for me. Of course, the Redbeard wants to be paid. He wants to come tomorrow to pick up his reward—the old toys."

"That crook!" Prosper snarled. "So he knew all along about the hoax!"

"Don't worry about it, Prosper," Renzo said, placing a hand on Prop's shoulder. It was awkward, because Renzo was so much shorter than him. Everyone listened again, but the bell had stopped.

"Probably some tourist boat," I said after a moment.

Renzo nodded. "Morosina spreads terrible stories about this island whenever she's in town. But we still get the occasional boat coming here. The dogs soon chase away the visitors, though."

We looked at each other: we all knew how effective the huge dogs were.

Renzo began to explain his story, while he started to push through the hedges again.

Finally we squeezed between the bushes and emerged into a clearing, surrounded by trees and hedges. Their branches were so thickly entangled that it was as though a brick wall surrounded us.

The merry-go-round looked exactly the way Ida had described it; it couldn't be described, except that it was magnificent even if it was faded. The figures were delicate and strong at the same time: slender and hard. All five were there: the unicorn, mermaid and merman, sea horse and the lion, who now spread both wings as if he'd never lost one. They hung on their poles beneath the wooden canopy, and I felt as though they were familiar. As though I had ridden them at one point at the zoo, or at a carnival.

The merman held his trident and the mermaid looked into the distance out of pale green eyes, longing for the free waters of the open seas. The sea horse with its fish tail was so beautiful that you _did_ forget that there were horses with four legs.

"Was it always here?" Scipio's voice was no longer an awed whisper. It was rough and filled with longing, but there was something else there. It almost stung me; his voice sounded fuller, it sounded real. It was more than pleasant to my ears. Why had he never spoken like this before? Why couldn't _I_ make him sound like that? He approached the merry-go-round cautiously.

"As long as we can remember," Renzo murmured. "Morosina and I were still very young when our mother brought us to the island because the Valaresso were looking for a kitchen maid. Nobody ever told us about it… It was a secret, but we found it. We crept out here to watch the other children ride it. Morosina and I would hide in the bushes and dream of riding it, just like you must dream of it—so that we could no longer be pushed and ordered around.

"They always found us…Years went by and our childhood vanished. Our mother died and we aged. Morosina and I found work in the city when the Valaresso fell. And then…We heard the story of the Merciful Sisters, and I made the connection. I understood why the Valaresso had kept is a secret! They had _stolen_ it! We dreamed of finding the wing; don't ask me how long it took me to find where it was…" Renzo climbed on to the platform and wrapped his arms around the unicorn. "It was worth it," he murmured, stroking its mane. "I only wish that Mother could be here to share it with us."

There was another kind of longing in his voice, different from the emotion in Scipio's. "Does it matter which one you sit on?" Scipio swung himself onto the platform and found himself staring into the lion's face. I was struck by the resemblance to Aslan, and my heart skipped a few beats. I wished that I could have someone like him here now, someone to guide me…

_Now! _part of me whispered in my mind. _Now, before it's too late and he's obsessed!_

_Wait,_ another half growled. _Wait, catch him off guard._

I tuned back in, noticing that I'd missed Renzo explain that it did matter what figure you rode on, and I'd missed Scipio calling to Prosper and Renzo worrying about the dogs and Morosina.

"You go first, Scipio," Prosper said. Scipio turned his pleading gaze on to my face. My heart stopped.

"Scipio!" my broken gasp ripped from my lungs as I rushed forward. "Please, no!" I managed to pull myself onto the splintered wood, opening the scratches in my hands. "Don't ride it! We can run, Scipio, away from the city, away from your father and all the grownups. We can all be safe—_please_!" I couldn't remember if I'd had a plan. I couldn't remember any game plan, strategy, plot... All I knew now was that he _couldn't_ grow up… Because I wouldn't be able to follow, and then we could never even have a chance at all. And I knew, I knew that I would die. If not physically, then something else in me would die.

Scipio stared at me as I clutched his sleeve, trying to rip him off of the seahorse. "Rae," he murmured, sliding off and placing his hands on my shoulders. He was suddenly very tall—looking down at me. My knees had given away.

_What happened to brave, fearless Rae? _I sneered at myself. _What happened to the girl who could change a fate? Change a story? And weren't you respecting his choice? What happened to that agreement?_

I couldn't answer.

"Rae?" Scipio was kneeling next to me now, frowning.

"Please don't ride!" my voice was loud, but it broke. "If not for me, then for Bo and Hornet and Riccio and Mosca—and Prosper and Victor and Ida, too. For the kittens, even. Just don't ride!" It seemed to me that both our visions blurred at the same time. I could see his eyes turn glassy and wet in the moonlight.

"What happened to my brave Rae?" he murmured.

"She's still here!" I shouted, pushing him away. Anger poured through me when he turned my own, silent words back at me. "But we know our limits! We can't follow you if you go. We'll respect your decision, but only if you know what that decision means!" The words tumbled out now, effortless and I was sure that they hurt him.

He stood, and he took my hands again; this time I didn't fight. I just didn't respond. "Rae," he breathed, and his chocolate eyes were wide, boring into my soul. His forehead touched mine—his was cool, and mine was sticky. His bangs brushed against my skin, trying to comfort me, just like his hands. "Rae, I have to. Don't you see? I _can't_ stay like this…I just can't."

"We'll grow up soon enough," I replied shortly. Our breath mingled, white against white. "And even before then we can be safe." Our noses touched.

I couldn't hear Prosper, I couldn't hear Renzo. It was as though the entire world had paused, allowing us a few spare moments to work this out.

"You have to understand, Rae," he said, and he wrapped his arms around me. "I do love you, in a way. Maybe it's not the kind of love that the adults talk about, or the love that's in the fairy tales… But I _do_ love you. Just believe that, and maybe you'll feel better."

_Love, again. Love love love. It will be the downfall of us all._

This kind of love was the best love, if it worked out. If it ever worked out.

I shook my head, and it throbbed. "That hurts more," I whispered, and my voice was a raspy sound. I tried to pull away, but he kept me still.

One of his hands threaded through my hair, gently untangling some straw from it. "Rae…_Cara…_Melantha…You're just making this harder for yourself." He sounded as though he believed it through and through, that he was right.

I didn't.

_You're going nowhere fast! You're just making your face a splotchy mess!_ _Snap out of it,_ I shouted at myself. _Just give him the ultimatum._

"If you go, Scipio, I'm going too. I will throw myself off of the wall and drown myself; I'll starve myself… If I can even survive that long." I looked at him and as hard as I could I could not make my expression angry. It seemed as though I was dead calm. I shuddered at the word _dead._

"That's how much I love you, Scipio. I'd die without you…And I would be without you if you grew up now."

He stared at me, and then his head snapped up. Unconsciously, I pressed myself against his chest as I looked up, also. We had heard something fall, crashing through the hedges.

"Where are you taking me, you little squirt?" Barbarossa growled. "I'm already as prickly as a cactus."

"This is the way; we're nearly there—_ouch!_" we heard Morosina yelp. Renzo looked at us, afraid. Prosper was frozen—until Renzo grabbed him and pulled him behind the merry-go-round. Scipio followed with me. He wouldn't let go of me. I hit my head against something hard as we hid, and I was dazed for a few seconds. Something cool pressed against my cheek, and I realized that it was Scipio's hand.

"I think you have a fever," he murmured, and it was gentle. I felt fine, though, as I sat up and peered over the top of the platform.

Barbarossa came into the clearing, dragging Morosina by her pigtails. Literally, _dragging _her. "What the devil is this?" The Redbeard roared when he saw the merry-go-round. He was panting. "Are you making fun of me? I'm looking for something with diamonds, huge diamonds and pearls. I knew you were stringing me along. Right, well the two of us are heading back to the house right now, and you'd better show me what I'm looking for, or else!"

"Rae!" Scipio whispered so quietly that no one else would hear. "Play along with me, please? One last time?" I paused, but then nodded. "Excellent!" Scipio straightened his jacket and smoothed his hair into the fashion that his father did. "This, I'm sure, is going to be fun. Great fun."

Keeping low, he and I crept past Renzo and Prosper. He looked around once more—then stood up to his full height.

I'd never noticed how tall he was: He was taller than me, instead of level. Now I realized that he always kept his head down, like a dog that, nevertheless away from its cruel master, was afraid of being hurt. However, at the moment he was Scipio the Thief Lord, not Scipio Massimo, son of the Dottor. He stuck his chin out like his father always did, and crossed his arms over his chest. He looked very intimidating.

Then he walked toward Barbarossa.

The Redbeard looked at him and gasped. He was still holding on to Morosina's pigtails.

"Good evening, Signor Barbarossa," Scipio said in his coolest, most elegant of voices. I followed in his shadow, still bent and out of sight. "What do you think of this? The very merry-go-round of the Merciful Sisters stands before you…" His eyes flashed and he leaned forward. "And it works."

Barbarossa's mouth dropped open. "Wha? _Dottore…_Dottor Massimo?" He stammered. "What are you doing here—we haven't met in ages!"

"I wanted to ask you the same question, Signor Barbarossa. And I am not the Dottore. I am the _Thief Lord._" His eyes darted to Morosina. "And what, for heaven's sake, are you doing with the Contessa?" His tone was scalding.

Barbarossa let go of Morosina's hair as though it burned. _"Contessa?_ Valaresso?"

"Of course! The little Contessa often visits her grandfather. Isn't that right, Morosina?" Scipio smiled at her. "But what brings you here, Signor? Business?" He began pacing. It wasn't making it easy for me to hide.

"What? Oh…yes, yes." Barbarossa nodded vigorously. "Business," he repeated. Morosina saw me, and I made two expressions—Tragedy and Comedy. She understood and grinned for a moment.

"Indeed? Well, the Conte asked me to come here and take a look at the merry-go-round that I helped him restore. And then…" Scipio's voice took on the longing sound again. "Then I took a ride and returned to the years that I'd had the worst of. I returned to my horrid childhood, and now I can relive it in peace." Barbarossa stood next to Scipio and gazed at the merry-go-round in awe. "Do you want to have a go?" Scipio asked, a smile that was _purely_ Scipio on his face.

"Do you know how to start it?" The Redbeard asked, already moving towards the platform.

"Oh, I have my helpers with me," Scipio replied. "They must be hiding somewhere. Probably trying to come to cope with the fact that I'm just as old as them now…" He chuckled and then made a gesture at me. I stood behind him, careful to keep my head down.

"Prosper, Renzo?" Scipio called. The two came out. "Come on, you two. Signor Barbarossa wants to take a ride." When he saw Prosper, Barbarossa's eyes widened. Prosper glared back at him.

"Where's Rae?" Scipio asked, although I was positive he knew I was here. "I'm here, Sir," I murmured, moving out of his shadow.

Morosina ran to her brother and whispered something in his ear. Renzo went rigid. "He gave the dogs poisoned meat!" he shouted.

He leaped onto the platform, but Barbarossa kicked him off. "So what? They'll live," he barked. "Was I supposed to let myself be chased by those hounds of hell?"

"Go and give them some ipecac," Renzo said to Morosina. "There should be enough in the stables.

Morosina ran off.

"Take the lion, Redbeard!" Renzo stared with loathing at Barbarossa. "That's probably the only one that will take your weight." Barbarossa looked at him with disdain but he did waddle over to the lion. The wood groaned under his weight.

My muscles tensed, and I skittered over to Scipio. Already an elaborate story was in my mind, explaining why I was sad, why Scipio "became younger", why I was holding his hand now—just in case Barbarossa was suspicious.

"Scipio," I whispered in his ear. "He'll break it. He will, I know it. Let me tell you that from the story… It's your only chance." Something in my chest disappeared. I felt empty, as though a black hole had opened inside me and was sucking everything else into it.

His hand tightened around mine and he shook his head, never taking his eyes off of the merry go round. "No," he said eventually, as Prosper and Renzo pushed it to a start. A thin smile twisted his face. "Rae…You're right." He looked at me for a long time, out of the corner of his eye. Barbarossa screamed behind us. "I'm lonely…There's this feeling in my chest as though you tore something out and threw it into ice water—just thinking about being without you." He shrugged. "I told you I was in love."

I threw my arms around him, just as the wood splintered. There was an inhuman roar, and I gasped. Something alive had died, _was dying_!

"_NO!"_ both Renzo and I screamed. There was nothing to be done. The wing bounced through the air and hit Prosper's arm. I heard something crack, and Prosper doubled over. The merry-go-round went faster and faster, not slowing down!

Then it happened.

It slammed to a halt, screaming in its own agony and sorrow. All of the figures were empty, their faces worn and parts broken. _"Madonna_!" A squeaky voice moaned. "What kind of nightmare was that?" A boy climbed out from behind the carousel. He stumbled over his pant legs—and then stared in disbelief at his fingers: Short, fat fingers. Little fingers.

A child's fingers.


	20. Splinters of Brilliance

Scipio held the splintered piece of wood in his arms as though cradling a baby. He didn't lift his head when Renzo began crying, attacking Barbarossa with a fire of anger. He didn't look up when Prosper pulled Renzo away, and he didn't look up when Barbarossa begged him to give him another ride and put him back to normal.

"Oh, leave me alone, Squirt," he said. "You don't understand. What were you doing here, anyway? Whatever you touch is cursed, obviously! All our lives, and the merry-go-round, too." He sighed.

"But _Dottore!"_ Barbarossa pleaded. I rolled my eyes. Apparently Scipio's introduction earlier hadn't stuck through the squirt's ride.

Scipio bristled at being called '_Dottore'._ "I am _not_ Dottor Massimo!" he yelled at Barbarossa. "I am the Thief Lord; get it through your thick head!" He dropped the wing on the platform. "Now shut up so that I can think!"

Barbarossa stared at Scipio as though he'd just been introduced to the devil himself. I took a deep breath. "Look, kid, Scipio is the Thief Lord. He always has been. He is _not_ the Dottor. The Dottor is his father. They are not the same." I pronounced the words slowly, glaring at him and hoping that the words would stick this time.

He lowered his voice in what I suppose was supposed to be a threatening fashion. In reality, his voice just squeaked and rasped some more. "Start the merry-go-round!" he said, shaking his tiny fists in the air. "Right away or I'll tell your father who you are!"

Scipio burst out laughing. "Oh, yeah sure! Go ahead and do that!" he chortled. "Tell them that the Massimo boy is the Thief Lord. It's a pity that you're such a little brat that nobody will believe you."

Barbarossa floundered a bit, staring his bare toes. "You despicable little blackmailer!" Renzo said from behind him. Compared to the little piece of clothes and skin in front of him, he towered ominously. "I'm going to go check on the dogs. If you've hurt them anywhere _near_ as much as you've hurt the merry-go-round then you'll wish you'd never stepped ashore the Isola Segreta. Have I made myself clear?"

"You!" Barbarossa spun around, tripping over his baggy clothes. "You dare to threaten me, you little--?"

"_I_ am the Conte, brat!" Renzo cut him off. "And you have no right to be on my island…" A grin spread on his face. "Consider yourself my prisoner." He jumped off of the merry-go-round and turned to us. "Will you keep an eye on him? I have to check on Morosina and the dogs."

Prosper nodded. He was still holding his limp arm, though. "What's the matter?" Scipio asked anxiously when he saw Prosper's arm unmoving and his face distorted by pain.

Prop shook his head. "The wing hit me, but I'll be alright."

"Morosina will look at your arm," Renzo said. "Bring the redhead to the house with you, please." He vanished into the bushes.

"That impertinent little twerp!" Barbarossa squealed. He put his hands on his hips and I snickered. "If he's the Conte, so what? His island, _bah_! I'm going home, and when I get there I'm going to employ the best carpenter in town and make this carousel from hell work again."

"You'll do no such thing," Scipio said shortly. He planted himself in front of the redheaded boy. Even with Barbarossa standing on the platform, Scipio was a full head and shoulders taller. Were five-year-olds usually that short? I racked my brain—but found none. Bo wasn't much older, but he was taller! Maybe Barbarossa was just a midget…

"Are your parents still alive?" Scipio asked.

Barbarossa shrugged and shivered. "No. Why the heck are you asking?"

Prosper, Scipio and I looked at each other. "Well, then, we'd better ask someone to take you to the Merciful Sisters," Prosper said.

"You _what?"_ Barbarossa recoiled. "You wouldn't dare! You wouldn't_ dare!"_

Scipio jumped onto the merry-go-round and easily picked up the little boy, throwing him over his shoulder. "The merry-go-round will never turn again," Scipio said quietly. "All thanks to you. Nor will you be going back into town, at least for the time being. Who knows what other catastrophes you would cause! No. You heard what Renzo said: You are now his prisoner. And to be honest, I don't envy you."

Barbarossa kicked and struggled, but Scipio put him down and threw him over his shoulder again like an old sack of potatoes—then he carried the screaming boy all the way back to the house. I could see Scipio wince every now and then when Barbarossa hit a bruise or a sore spot, but he never faltered. Never did a word escape my brown-haired angel's mouth, even though a stream of curses and spat insults came from Barbarossa. Scipio's head was thrown back, looking at the sky and trees, as if he'd never seen them clearly before. He seemed not to hear Barbarossa's screams. He just walked, as if deaf, his strides longer than ever.

I stopped trying to keep close after a while of puffing and huffing. When we finally reached the house, though, Scipio turned to us. He put the complaining Barbarossa back on his own feet and said, "I've always tried to be an adult…I tried to see everything smaller than me, tried to keep my nose in the air and look down on everything. And now that I've stopped, everything's so beautiful, so huge, so clear. I feel…I feel like I don't fit into it."

"Welcome to my world," I said and hesitantly took his hand.

He smirked suddenly and bent down toward Barbarossa. "You probably see it ten times what I do, don't you, little Squirt?" he asked mockingly. "What's it like down there?"

Barbarossa wasn't paying attention. He looked miserable, searching for any way to escape. He struggled fiercely as Prosper started to drag him toward the steps. "Let me go!" He screamed, and his hair was as red as his older self's beard. "That boy…the Conte, he's going to kill me! You have to let me go. We're business partners, after all. I'll give you all my money. My boat is anchored by the gate—you could say I escaped."

"Oh, _money?_ It's OK—we still have a whole bag full of _fake money_," Prosper answered coldly. "Ring any bells?"

For a moment Barbarossa was at a loss for words. "What fake money? I—I don't know about any—I don't know what you're talking about!" he said feebly, avoiding our eyes.

"You know absolutely everything about it," Scipio said as he started up the steps. Barbarossa followed—but stopped as soon as Renzo appeared between the pillars. The mastiffs were at his sides, their eyes dull but their ears cocked towards Barbarossa.

"Just look how angry he is!" Barbarossa squealed, holding on tightly to Prosper's arm. His injured arm. I ripped the redhead off of Prosper and held him away from my friend. Prop looked relieved. "You have to protect me from him!" Barbarossa hid behind my back.

Morosina stepped next to one of the mastiffs and glared at Barbarossa. "You were very lucky, little poisoner!" Renzo called as he came slowly down the steps. "Yes, they're still alive," he confirmed. "But I think they could do with a bite to eat and some exercise. Morosina's just suggested a fun game. You against the mastiffs in a race. With, say, your boat as the finish line."

Barbarossa suddenly went pale.

Renzo stopped two steps above him. "But I have another idea," he said. "Naturally, you will have to pay for destroying the merry-go-round. But _this_ time you won't pay with your life, and you won't pass off any faux money. Thanks to you, Morosina and I cannot undo what we have begun. And neither can you. But I will let you go—only if you give me all the cash you have in your ship. Not just in the register, but in your safe as well."

Barbarossa backed away in shock and nearly fell down the steps. Scipio pushed him back up at the last moment, but as soon as he was back on his feet the little boy pushed his hand away. "Are you _insane?_" he squawked. "And how will I live? I will hardly be able to see over the shop counter now. And why is it my fault that rotten wing broke off?"

"Yes, why indeed?" Scipio sat down with a sigh on the cold steps and looked straight into Barbarossa's eyes. "I mean, it couldn't possibly be your fault that you crept onto this island with a bag of poisoned meat, or that you dragged Morosina by the hair, or that you got on the merry-go-round in the first place, that you couldn't get off…That you had to _break_ it to stop it, instead of trying to keep calm…"

Renzo cut Barbarossa's retort off. "We'll go into town together, and you'll give me the money. In return, I won't take revenge for the merry-go-round or the dogs. We could, though, believe me. We could draw the _Carabinieri's_ attention to the little orphaned boy who believes he is Ernesto Barbarossa. Or we could ask Scipio and Prosper and Rae to take you to the home of the Merciful Sisters. It's your choice; you can still buy yourself out of all this.

Barbarossa angrily dropped his hand when he realized that his chin was beardless. "Blackmail," he grumbled.

"Call it what you will," Renzo retorted. "Though I could find a few choice words to describe what you've done on this island today." Barbarossa looked so pathetic that Prosper and I burst out laughing.

"I'd take him up on his offer," Prosper gasped. "Otherwise, Morosina will feed you to the dogs."

"Fine, I accept," Barbarossa said, looking up at the dogs. "But it's still blackmail.

* * *

We slipped into Ida's house as quietly as we could with a protesting Barbarossa. We listened as Ida and Victor and Hornet spoke to each other. Then we heard the footsteps and Scipio was suddenly quiet.

He was wearing the Conte's old cape, which wasn't too, too big on him. It certainly made him look very handsome in the old-fashioned kind of way. His dark eyes moved to the open doorway, and then back to me. He stood from his chair and discreetly moved to stand next to me, almost in front of me. Just then, Ida and Victor walked inside and stopped, their jaws literally dropping as they stared at Barbarossa. Prosper followed their gaze and pulled the bottle of port away from the redhead.

Scipio relaxed when he saw it was only Victor and Ida.

"Darn it, Prosper!" Victor exclaimed. "Have you any _idea_ of how long we've been looking for you?"

"Hello, Victor!" Prosper grinned sheepishly at the detective and pushed his chair back. His left arm hung in a sling.

Scipio put down his glass of port, trying to remain inconspicuous—it was funny. He tried to hide it behind him, but missed the table. He caught it before it spilled all over my lap, though. He mirrored Prosper's sheepish look.

"How did you get in here?" Ida asked Prop, not taking her eyes off of Barbarossa.

"Lucia told me where she hides the spare key," Prosper answered in embarrassment.

"Well, well, and now you've brought even more people into Ida's house." Victor eyed Barbarossa, who hiccupped. "What about this little midget there? Aren't there enough children in this house already?"

The little redhead rose unsteadily, hiccupping again. "Midget?" His voice was slurring. I giggled. He was drunk. "I am Ernesto Barbarossa! I am an important man in the city. And who the devil, if I may ask, are _you?"_

Victor opened his mouth in astonishment, but before he could say anything Scipio pushed the redhead roughly back into his seat.

"Shut up, Barbarossa, or should I say, baby Barbarino. If you don't behave yourself we'll kick you out of the door. This is Victor, a friend of ours. And the woman next to him is Signora Spavento. This is her house." He drew himself up as Barbarino tried to fight back. Looming over the little boy, he looked quite impressive. If I didn't know better, I'd say he looked sixteen, not twelve.

"I'm sorry we brought the Redbeard here, Ida," Prosper said. "And that he drank your port, but he didn't want to stay in his shop by himself. It's only for one night…"

"In his shop?" Victor asked. "Darn it, guys, could you please explain what's going on?"

"We've given our word not to tell anyone," Prosper muttered.

"Yes, we're really sorry, Victor," Scipio said, turning back to our company. He wore _such_ an impertinent grin on his face. "But we can't tell you."

"What's going on?" Hornet asked, pushing past the adults. She gasped when she saw Prosper and ran over. She only had eyes for him. "Where have you _been?"_ She scolded, anger and relief ringing through her voice. "Where have you been, for God's sake! Have you any idea how worried we've been? You just disappear in the middle of the night—" she had tears in her eyes. Prosper opened his mouth but Hornet plowed on. "We've been searching for you all over town. Mosca and Riccio are still out there! And Lucia and Giaco! And Bo has been crying his eyes out, none of us could get him to calm down—"

"Bo?" Prosper hadn't met her eyes, but now he stared at Hornet as though he couldn't believe either his eyes or ears. "But Bo's with Esther!"

"No, he isn't!" Hornet shouted. "But how would _you_ know, going off and vanishing like that? And what in heaven's name happened to your arm?" Prosper didn't reply, he just stared at Victor.

"Don't look at me like that. Yes, your little brother ran away from Esther again," Victor said. "But not before he misbehaved so thoroughly that your aunt no longer thinks he's an angel. She doesn't want to see him again, ever. Not him and definitely not you. Those were her words. I'm supposed to find you a decent Italian children's home for the two of you, should you ever appear again. But _she_ won't have anything to do with either of you anymore."

Prosper shook his head. "It's not possible!" He whispered.

"I found your little brother in the movie theater," Victor continued. "I thought that if I brought him here you'd throw yourself at me with gratitude. But you weren't even here."

Prosper shook his head. "Did you hear that, Scip?" He muttered.

"Well, if that's not cause for a party," Scipio said, putting his arm around my shoulders. His other hand still held his glass of port. He twirled the stem in between his long fingers. "Maybe we should spend a bit of that fake money."

"After I see Bo," Prosper replied.

Ida reached over and took Prosper's hand. "Come with me," she said and lead Prosper into the corridor.

Bo was sleeping in a chair, right where Victor had put him. He was curled up like a kitten underneath his sweater. His hair was wet from the rain, and his eyes were red from crying. Shasta lay underneath the chair, also wet and asleep. Prosper bent over his brother and pulled the sweater up to his chin.

"Yes, Bo took matters into his own hands," Ida said quietly, guessing the truth, "while his brother and friends took off to the Isola Segreta."

Prosper's face fell. "We're not allowed to talk about it," he said. "It's someone else's secret and…"

"…and the Isola Segreta may keep its secret," Ida said firmly. She sat down on the arm of the chair. "At least the wing is back in its proper place. And Bo will be very happy that you didn't ride on what we're not allowed to speak about."

"Yeah, I think so too," Prosper said, stretching. "What did he do to Esther?"

"Your aunt has been kicked out of the hotel," Ida answered with a grin. "And I seem to recall something about pasta, tomato sauce, and a _gelato._"

Prosper smiled.

"It was just as beautiful as you told us!" he said suddenly. "But now it's broken. It was Barbarossa's fault. And I think it will never work again."

Ida said nothing, and I leaned back into the kitchen where Victor was reprimanding Scipio, and Hornet was torturing Barbarino.

"You should wake your brother now," I heard Ida say. "And then I'll have a look at your arm."

"It's not that bad," Prop answered. "But maybe you could find a vet who'd dare to go out to the Isola Segreta to treat a couple of dogs?"

"Sure," Ida answered. Then she walked over to Scipio and I and reached for his port, which he downed in one gulp before turning to kiss me _quite_ firmly.

Port tastes disgusting.

And so Prosper woke Bo.

* * *

At dinner, I fell asleep half-way through my pasta. When I finally woke up, Barbarino was yelling at Bo, and I was lying in Scipio's lap.

Bo looked up at me and Prosper. "I think Esther would like the way he talks, don't you, Prop?" Bo finally said. "He talks better than Scipio. And he's even smaller than me. But she probably wouldn't like the swearing."

"True," Prosper said.

"Yeah," I added, yawning. "He's just like a mini Scipio, except with more swearing, less slang, and no good looks. He's perfect."

Scipio rolled his eyes and gave me a look; lifting a single eyebrow at me. I mirrored the look and stuck out my tongue at him. He chuckled.

Bo rolled nonchalantly on to his back, ignoring Barbarossa's continuous insults. "And he doesn't spill his food," he observed. "I think Esther would like that best, right Prop?"

His brother dropped his fork and looked closely at Barbarossa. "You're right!" He marveled. "Not even a speck! She would be stunned—and just look how he has brushed his hair. Did you do that, Ida?"

She snorted. "You heard him, I can't even brush my own hair. What about you, Victor?"

"Not guilty!" Victor answered.

"Who is this Esther these airheads keep talking about?" Barbarossa asked, turning to Riccio.

As he explained, I watched as Scipio thought deeply. "You know what? I've just had a crazy idea," he said slowly. "It's still a bit hazy, but it's completely brilliant…"

"Brilliant? From you? Ha!" Barbarossa reached for the wine again, but Victor grabbed the bottle and put it next to his plate. "You know, Thief Lord," Barbarino snarled in Scipio's direction, "you can't _possibly_ hatch any brilliant plans, because you're nothing more than a clone of your father."

Scipio jumped up as if something had bitten him. "Say that again, you little brat, and let's see what my next brilliant plan is…" He was moving around the table towards the redhead's seat. I jumped up and dragged him back.

"Don't let that kid get to you, Scip," Hornet said while Barbarino smugly inspected his fingernails.

Scipio dropped back into his chair. "Fine," he muttered, not taking his eyes off Barbarino. "I'll stay calm. Maybe I'll send a postcard to Signor Barbarossa at the orphanage one day. That's where he'll end up, if he doesn't die in his shop. I won't waste another thought on him, let alone a brilliant one." He got up, pretending to be offended, and looked out into the night.

Riccio and Mosca nudged each other, and Prosper hid a grin behind his sleeve. Yes, this was definitely our Scipio, still the dramatic…And Barbarossa swallowed the bait! Boy, was that baby stupid.

"OK, OK!" He squawked. "What about your brilliant idea, Thief Lord? Heavens, that man is touchier than a dog with a bone."

But Scipio kept his back turned. He stood by the window and looked out at the Camp Santa Margherita. "Hey, Rae, maybe I should tell _you_ my thoughts, because I know _you'll_ appreciate them," he said loudly.

I got up, rubbing the last of the sleep from my eyes. "Sure thing, _Caro_," I said.

"Spit it out, for heaven's sake!" Barbarossa shouted as the others began to chuckle. Scipio didn't move except to bend down to me.

He almost began to speak when Barbarossa slurped down the last of his stolen wine, and belched. "What do I have to do, get down on my knees?" He hiccupped.

"Prosper and Bo's aunt," Scipio said, making a face, "is looking for a sweet little boy who has good table manners and can behave like an adult. You are looking for shelter and a home for the future. And someone who puts food in front of you and who sleeps next to the door when it's dark…"

Barbarossa's eyebrows shot up. "Is she rich?" he asked.

"Oh yes!" Scipio answered. "Right, Prop?"

Prosper nodded. "That's really quite a brilliant idea, Scip, but it's crazy. It'll never work."

Scipio looked at my grin and then mirrored the expression. "Oh, I think it will, Prop," he said, and we laughed together.


	21. Worthy of Note

The next morning, Victor came back to Ida's house with a newspaper. Scipio's picture was on the front page. Nearly all of the city's papers ran the picture, together with an appeal by the police to everyone to help the honorable Dottor Massimo find his missing son.

Ida read the Dottor Massimo's appeal and sighed. "Do you know where Scipio is?" she asked Hornet and I from where we sat, watching her work to develop her pictures.

I nodded. "He's upstairs," I said.

"Hornet, would you bring him down?" Victor asked. Hornet nodded and walked out of the dark room.

"We should get a message to the _Dottore_," Victor continued. "Even if the Thief Lord doesn't want us to."

"I agree," Ida said. They looked to me, and I nodded.

"Can I write it?" I asked.

"Sure," said Victor just as Scipio and Hornet walked inside.

Victor explained to Scipio about the note, and Scip reluctantly agreed. I got up and led him out of the room, into the living room where Barbarossa was lying on the sofa, looking rather bored as he leafed through a book on Venice's treasures.

He glared at us as we walked past. We scowled back at him; he'd woken all of us at dawn, screaming and yowling after he realized that Ida had locked him into the room.

I took out a paper and a pen. "What should you say?" I asked Scipio as we sat down. He put his chin on my shoulder.

"Father," he began, and my hand began to move over the card.

"_Don't worry about me, I'm fine. I don't want to come home right now, and I probably never will. I'm sorry that we've never gotten along well, and I'm sorry that I never got to say goodbye to Mother one last time. Tell her that I love her, please, and that I've got a place to stay, food to eat, clothes to wear and I even have friends. I want for nothing now. You don't know how much it means that you're looking for me. It almost seems as if you want to start over. But that isn't possible—I'm too far gone. I apologize for not being the son you wanted, but I want you to know that I love you, Dad. Take care of my cat for me, please, and it would be nice if you kept the picture on my nightstand. It means a lot._

"I hope that you and Mom work out. Love, Scipio."

I let him sign his name, carefully noting his middle name, and then I folded the paper in half, sliding it into an envelope. "Come on," I said, and we headed back to Victor and Ida. "Could you drop this into the Massimo's mailbox?" I asked Victor.

"No problem," he said, putting the envelope into his pocket. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"What about the aunt?" Barbarossa slipped off of the sofa and came to stand in front of us, his arms folded. "It's already past ten. I suggest you call her now and tell her to come here, so that I can have a look at her."

Victor was ready with a sharp retort, when Hornet put her head around the door.

"I hung the photos up to dry, Ida," she said. "Is there anything else I can do?"

"Yes, you can call Prosper and Bo down for me. I'm going to call their aunt and maybe they should be here when I do."

Hornet went outside, and soon after she did Prosper, Bo and Riccio came scrambling inside. "I hope your crazy idea works, Scip," Riccio said as he plopped down beside us. Barbarossa was enthroned in Ida's best armchair like a king forced to watch a bunch of mediocre actors perform.

"I don't know why you're making such an effort for the brat," Victor whispered to Ida. "Just look at him, how he's sitting there…"

"That's exactly why I have to do this. So I can spare the Merciful Sisters from having to look after him," Ida whispered back. "It might help Prosper and Bo, too. I think Prosper is still worried that his aunt could change her mind about Bo, so let's give her"—she smiled at Barbarossa who was watching her and Victor suspiciously—"Our little redlocks…"

"If you think so," Victor grudgingly assented. "She speaks Italian."

"Even better," Ida replied. I handed her the phone and she dialed the number of the not-five-star hotel the Hartliebs had ended up.

"_Buongiorno!"_ Ida said with a firm voice. "This is Sister Ida, from the Order of the Merciful Sisters. Could I please speak to Signora Esther Hartlieb?"

It took a while before Esther finally came to the other end. "Ah, good morning, Signora," Ida said. "The reception told you who I am? Good. The reason I'm calling is that last night the police delivered two boys to the orphanage. One of our sisters immediately recognized the boys as your nephews, the ones on those posters all over town." Ida paused. "Oh, really? No. How unfortunate. Well. Pardon? What do you mean; you don't want the boys anymore?"

She paused again.

Bo began chewing on his nails, and only stopped when Hornet wrapped her arms around him. I patted Prosper's arm: he looked even more worried than Bo.

"But aren't you their legal guardian?" Ida continued. "I understand. Yes, the children have told me a similar story. That is sad, Signora, very sad. Of course we will look after them; that is our mission, after all. But we still need you to come in and settle all the formalities…Yes, I'm afraid that is absolutely necessary, Signora."

Ida put on a stern face, as if she were talking to Esther face to face. "Yes, absolutely, I'm afraid. When did you say you were leaving? ...So soon? Well then, I will arrange an appointment for you tomorrow afternoon. Hold on, let me just check my diary." Ida rustled with the newspaper on the sofa. "Hello, Signora?" She said into the receiver. "I can see you at three o'clock—" _Again, with the three o'clock! _"—NO, I'm afraid your presence is required. I will meet you in our town office, in the Casa Spavento, Campo Santa Margherita, number eleven. Ask for Sister Ida. Yes. Thank you, Signora Hartlieb. Until tomorrow."

Ida took a deep breath as she put down the phone, a grin on her face.

"Excellent!" Victor said to her. "I couldn't have done it better myself."

"And I didn't laugh," Bo said indignantly.

"She's really coming?" Prosper looked around at us in disbelief. I nodded.

"Incredible!" Barbarossa pushed away one of Bo's kittens that had tried to climb on his lap. "Some people really are incredibly gullible."

Ida shrugged. "I've laid out the bait," she said. "It's all up to you whether Signora Hartlieb goes for it."

Barbarossa ran a hand through his thick curls. "It shouldn't be a problem."

"I don't want to be here when Esther comes," Bo said quietly. Prosper got up and walked to the window.

"Me neither," he said.

"There's no need for you to be," Victor said, moving to stand next to him. "You see that cafe over there? I suggest you all go over there tomorrow and have some nice helpings of ice cream. I'll give you some money so you don't have to pay with your fake bills."

"I hope you do well tomorrow, Barbarino," Mosca said. "I cannot wait to be rid of you."

"Little redhead, Barbarino! I don't like the nicknames you're giving me," Barbarino muttered. "I just hope your aunt really is as rich as you say, or else I will tell her the lies you've spun."

Scipio rolled his eyes. "We'll just have to find a bed for you with the Merciful Sisters, then," he said.

"You can go and ask them," said Ida, "because I would like Hornet and Prosper to go pick something up for me from the sisters."

"Pick something up? What?" Barbarossa asked, now deeply suspicious. But Ida shook her head.

"It's a secret," she said. "But you'll find out soon enough, Barbarino."

* * *

I was sharing a sundae with Scipio when Esther came to Ida's house. I tuned out the others and watched Prosper and Bo's aunt follow Lucia, who was dressed in a Nun's outfit.

For the next twenty minutes or so, we sat in the café, eating in silence. Then we saw Esther and Barbarossa walk out, looking happy and content. They headed off past us, totally involved with themselves. I remembered what Esther said about wanting children, in the book, and almost smiled at how comfortable they looked together.

Later that evening Esther returned Barbarossa. We watched from a window as they walked across the square. Barbarossa was licking a huge cone of ice cream without getting a single drop on himself. Bo muttered something about wanting to know how he did that.

Esther was laden with overstuffed shopping bags, but her left hand held onto Barbarossa's and on her lips was a blissful smile.


	22. Train Whistle Blowin'

Esther and Barbarino were gone, and Riccio and Mosca had moved out. It was just Scipio, Prosper, Hornet, Bo and I left in Ida's house—with Victor and Ida, of course. It was just another night at Ida's house, and we were all sitting at the dinner table.

Suddenly, Scipio looked around. "Where's Shasta?" he asked. I looked under the table, but he wasn't there.

"There he is!" Ida jumped up, looking out the window. Sure enough, Shasta was outside, jumping around in puddles.

"Hey, Shasta, come here!" I called, running out the door. But he barked and bounced away, wagging his tail and having a happy-dog time.

The others followed me, chasing Shasta through the city. I followed him around a corner—and stopped. Shasta was bouncing and jumping onto someone who looked a lot like me.

"Shasta! Down, _down_!" the girl laughed as Shasta licked her face.

"Shasta, down," I said to help her. Shasta looked over and sat down, giving me a comical face.

The girl sat up and looked at me. We stared at each other for a moment, and then she spoke, "Rae, it's time to go home."

I blinked.

"You've done what you've needed to do—you changed the story. And now it's time to go." The conversation that followed was pretty confusing (for example, we went into detail about my alternate universe thing, as well as 'Author Pens'), so I'll just skip it. In the end, all that mattered were the tickets.

She held out a few pieces of paper, and put them in my hand. "Here are the tickets—take the train home," she said.

"Wait a minute," I murmured, looking down at my hand. "There are only two here…"

"Yes, one's for Scipio. You're taking him with you."

"What about the others?" I asked quickly.

"That's what emails and phone numbers are for," she said as though it were obvious. "The train leaves tomorrow morning. Don't be late."

"How do I know I can trust you?" I asked, stuffing the tickets in my pocket.

She ignored that. "Scipio's father won't give up on him. The safest thing for Scipio to do is to get away from here. And you want to be together, so I figured you'd _want_ him to come with you," she said.

"I do! But he'd need to go to school, and Mom and Dad wouldn't just let some strange kid stay—"

"Rae," she said sharply. "Don't worry. It'll all turn out fine." She looked up over my shoulder, and I turned to see the others coming around the corner. I whipped around, ready to tell the girl to—

But she wasn't there.

* * *

The next morning, Victor, Ida, Scipio, Bo, Hornet, Prosper, and I were standing on the train platform. Shasta was on a leash (a fact which he was not happy with) and Scipio was standing between two suitcases. They were both his—I only had a backpack.

Bo was nearly in tears, and Hornet was holding his hand. Prosper was holding _her_ hand (surprise surprise!) and saying goodbye to us. I'm not ashamed to say that I was tearing up a bit; even though we _had_ traded phone numbers, Prosper and Hornet gotten emails, and such. Scipio looked rather distant as he stared out in the direction of the city.

The others said goodbye and left (Bo giving Shasta one last hug, and then giving his Thief Lord a squeeze)—they had to go get breakfast before all of them collapsed. So Scipio and I were left standing, alone, on the platform.

"I can't believe that we're leaving," he murmured, sitting down on his suitcase. I nodded and sat down next to him. We sat in silence for a while, listening to the rain falling outside of the little stop we were sitting under. "How are we going to do this?" he asked finally. "I mean, I have to go to school, and then I don't think your parents are going to just let me stay…" He looked up at me.

"Don't worry," I said as the train whistle blew in the distance. "It'll all turn out fine."

Just as the train was pulling away from the station, a black car drew up. Out shot Scipio's father, and the woman who I'd seen in the picture by Scipio's bedside. Scipio had been looking the other way, but the shout of "Scipio!" brought his gaze to the window. His eyes widened and he jumped up, throwing the window open. "Scipio, come back!" His mother screamed. I stood, catching Scipio before he fell out of the train.

"Mom," he whispered. "MOM! I'm sorry!" he shouted over the piercing whistle. "Goodbye, Mom! Dad!"

The Dottor saw me, and his eyes narrowed. I couldn't hear him, but the look on his face was enough. _How dare you take away my son?_

I sat down.

Scipio stood by the window for a long time after the station disappeared. I think I fell asleep at one point, because the next thing I knew I was being shaken awake. Scipio had his hand on my shoulder. I looked up into his face, and I saw that his eyes were slightly red. "I think this is our stop," he said, nodding out the window.

I looked outside and I swear, my eyes widened to the size of dinner plates.

Zooming by my window was a familiar city. Up ahead in the rainy night I could see the train station that was closest to my house. "She was right," I breathed. The lights in the train turned on, and I saw Scipio's face. He was looking around at the city that was slowly coming to a stop in front of him, taking it all in silently. His face showed no emotion, so I couldn't tell what he thought.

As we stepped off the train, I asked him what he was thinking.

He was silent for a moment, and then he smiled. "'S long as you're here, I think I can deal," he said.

I grinned in reply and shouldered my backpack, picking up one of his suitcases. "Come on, let's go home."

We managed to sneak back into my house without anyone noticing—Shasta went directly to his food bowl in the kitchen—and we crept towards my room. I still had no clue what I'd say to my parents (my sisters would absolutely _love_ Scipio. He'd be giving them a weapon to tease me with, so of course they'd be happy. My parents, though…).

I was just opening my door when the computer began to glow. It hummed, growing brighter and brighter. There was a figure lying on my bed—and I realized that it was me, and Shasta, too. The Shasta on the bed growled at the computer, and then with a flash the room was empty except for the present me, and Scipio.

Scipio was rubbing his eyes, blinking away the spots in his vision. "Was that how--?" he whispered. I nodded and pulled him into my room, closing the door.

I locked it, and then flopped onto my bed, inhaling the smell of my room and letting myself relax for the first real time in a while.

"It'll all work out," I said to myself as Scipio lay down beside me.

And so it did.

_**Fin**_


	23. End Note

**A/N:** _End Note:_

Alright, so the story is over. PM me if it seems like any chapters are missing (Terribly unfortunate, but during the editing process I had to take _What's Real_ down completely, thus losing both _106 _wonderful reviews, and also all of the original chapters. I might have missed some of my re-uploads in the re-uploading process, so…), and as always, please review if you're new or have any constructive criticism.

Thank you to all my original reviewers. I do love hearing from you (for some of you I must pretend that that was the past tense). 106 reviews for a measly little wretch of a first story is amazing, I believe, and I thank you for it. So…

Here's the platter of cookies:

**Preview of What's Wrong:**

_Scipio and Rae's new life together. Abuse of any kind scars, and those scars take years to heal—if they ever do. Our favorite couple figures this out through an agonizing process, with only each other to fall back upon. But when doubts about their relationship threaten to break them, what will they do?_

--

Scipio's fingers dug into his skull, curled as he was at the base of the wall. All around him the jeers of the drunken men resounded, and he shivered uncontrollably. It was driving him insane, their laughter, their slurred voices and the _smell_—Oh God, the smell made his already knotted stomach churn, and a wretched sob passed his lips.

In the back of his mind he knew he needed to find Rae, but his limbs wouldn't obey his feeble mental commands. Tears slipped from his eyes, stinging as they tore across the open slashes on his face.

"Dammit, why _me?"_

--

Rae's roundhouse connected solidly with the lifted hand, and she swiftly dropped into a front stance, lightly bouncing on her heels for a fraction of a second before punching at her opponent's stomach and pulling her punch before it could cause any damage at all. The point was called and they stepped back, breathing heavily and grinning at each other as the winner was declared. Rae bowed and walked over to where the only street-clothed boy was standing.

"Wow."

"You could do that too, you know," Rae replied calmly and caught the bottle of water he threw at her. "I'll teach you, since I'm a black belt now. I don't think you'd be up to the stress of the others fighting around you; I'll also ask Dad to help, since he's done this sort of thing before."

"People like me?"

"Mostly girls, actually. He's told me. Lots of people come to learn self defense because they were abused by parents, or men… He can help, trust me. Don't let his size fool you." She looked up at him sternly. "He's a teddy bear, not a bull. Just don't be stupid, or else he'll give you what you deserve."

Regardless of her reassuring presence and her attempt at reassuring words, his dark eyes were frightened as he looked up at the hulking form of the man who'd taken him in, cooked for him, taught him Chemistry, _and _allowed him to date his daughter...

Scipio swallowed hard.

He was going to die.

--

His jaw clenched at the verbal abuse, but he continued walking. She rolled her eyes and sighed, tossing her hair over her shoulder defiantly. "Idiots," she muttered under breath as she huffed up the stairs to the Chemistry department. "Come on, Dad said he'd meet us inside."

"You sure it's OK?"

"_Come on._" She waved her note and her keys. "Inside, before the cold gets in."

"Have I told you that I don't like this room?"

"No wonder. Somebody died in it."

"What!"

"Just kidding. But I do know what you mean. Don't worry, I'll protect you."

He rolled his eyes and threw his backpack down onto one of the lab stations. "I told you, _I'd_ do the protecting from now on."

"So you did." She perched on the edge of the black counter and tangled her hand in his jacket. He leaned into her and sighed, pressing his lips to her forehead. "But sometimes I can tell that though you don't want it, you _need_ protection. Or at least comfort."

"You see right through me."

"No. You're just an incredibly readable person."

"What can you read now?"

"Two words."

"…"

"'Kiss me'."

--

"Would you shut up?"

A door slammed down the hall.

"You first!"

"Scipio, _listen to me!"_

"No, you listen to me! You've been spending more and more time with him and less time with me, and you won't believe me when I tell you the truth about him and his gang-banging minions! If you can't trust me on that, then why do you trust me on everything _but?_"

"Why _do_ I, Scipio? Tell me!"

"You said you loved me."

"So did you! Why can't _you_ trust _me_ on this?"

"Because you don't know everything—"

"Neither do you! Why don't you just go curl up in your corner and cry for a while, while I go and actually _do_ something right? Go on, go call for Mommy!"

"Rae!"

"_Don't touch me."_

"Rae—"

"Leave me alone, _Massimo!_"

Another slam.

Silence.

--

**All in "What's Wrong", sequel to **_**What's Real.**_** A Thief Lord Fanfic, completely AU. Major OOC and OCness. Coming whenever I feel like it, sorry.**


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